


How to Turn a Straight Guy Gay

by LouLa



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Drama, Dramedy, Erotica, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-13
Updated: 2010-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 150,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouLa/pseuds/LouLa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My name is Jasper Whitlock, and I teach straight boys the pleasure of cock."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A great big thank you to Strae, for prompting and betaing this entire fic. I couldn't have done it without her; I truly would have given up long before this story was finished if she hadn't encouraged me all the way through.

It takes a great deal of savoir vivre to do what I do. It's not a sport that can be learned or a game that can be played, but an art that takes a certain finesse and understanding.

My name is Jasper Whitlock, and I teach straight boys the pleasure of cock.

I, as a gay man, have absolutely no interest in another gay man. That isn't to say I can't be attracted to a gay man, I have been before, but the moment I find out they are gay, or bi, or even curious, they immediately lose all appeal to me.

I want bona fide, cunt-loving straight boys. I settle for nothing less.

It makes life difficult, oh yes, but the results are... mind numbing, toe clenching, bone jarring, body aching... In the end, it is always worth it.

There was a time when gay men were good enough for me, that was before I met Peter. Peter changed my world around. When I met Peter, I was a freshmen in college and just learning the ways of the gay, freshly open and out myself, though I'd been sure of my sexuality and been with a man before I escaped to college. Peter was as straight as they came, straight as an arrow, straight laced, straight-up straight. He was tan and buff and hot, he oozed southern charm, he was smart, he was perfect.

I wanted him like you wouldn't fucking believe.

I spent a full year chasing Peter, gently easing him into a new way of thinking until finally he gave in and slept with me. That night changed both of our lives forever.

That night Peter learned how great cock can be and never looked back. That night I learned that it wasn't Peter I was after, it was his ass cherry.

One night of long, sweaty, passionate sex and we were both changed men.

And so that is when it all began. After Peter there was Garrett, after Garrett there was Benjamin, then Riley, then Charles, and so on. All straight boys who always enjoyed the cock once they finally gave into it. For five years I've been fucking straights boys, and they always,  _always_ enjoy it. Several gave up pussy completely after our time together, while others were very openly bi.

I don't really know what it is about a straight man that affects me so much, but it really does. Maybe it's the thrill of the chase, the fact that I'm not rightly supposed to have it, I don't know. But straights drive me crazy.

Sometimes it takes a week, sometimes a month, but in the end, it's always only the one night of sex and I move on. Some boys get clingy, but most of them are so fucking blissed out, they don't even care.

Peter took the longest, but to this day he is still, and he always will be, my greatest conquest. Of my victories, Peter is one of the few I keep in contact with. Despite living thousands of miles from each other, we remained friends.

I've been called sick and perverted and misogynistic, but I'm not a monster. I don't hurt my boys or force them. The sex, believe it or not, is always their idea. I plant the seed, so to speak, then watch as it grows, and when it's ripe for the taking, I have it.

Of all the boys I have had, there are plenty that I gave up on as well. The scared boys are always the worst. I leave the boys who are afraid, and perfectly happy with vagina, alone. It's not worth my time to teach them that the snake doesn't bite; they are usually scared for a reason anyway. It's just safer for both of us to leave each other alone.

Then there are the angry ones. Mean, gay hating, hypocritical assholes are a complete waste of time. When I was young and stupid—and horny—I didn't care how mean they were. I was inexperienced, and if I wanted them, I was convinced that was all that mattered. I learned the hard way to be choosy and that a hot body is not worth an abysmal mind.

A guy named Paul and his little pack of misfits put me in the hospital for getting a little touchy-feely. I stopped trying to fuck the callous right there and then, the women can keep those self-righteous pricks for themselves.

I don't try to embolden the fearful with sex and I don't try to tame the beasts with my magic stick. I learned to keep my boys kind and honest. That's not to say I don't enjoy a little spirit, but cruelty is not something I stand for. Kindhearted, smart, and ruggedly handsome is my type. I love a boy that's rough around the edges, maybe a little naïve, definitely a lot sporty and casual.

I'm at my usual spot, scouting out the crowd. The first step to turning a boy gay is to find the perfect boy, then you mark him.

Choosing for me is always difficult. I'm picky as hell. I swear, the more time that passes the more curious the boys get. I stay out of the gay bars in hopes of avoiding flaming Phillips and curious Georges. But the men-hungry ones seem to be drawn to me like I'm their magnetic field. I  _am_  pretty hot...

Rogue's Rock House on the edge of Seattle seems to usually tend to my needs well. Some of the hottest men I'd ever seen frequented the rock bar and very few gay men filtered in.

I nod cordially to the bartender and lean back against the counter to scan the heavy crowd. There's a lot of women out tonight. I usually come to Rogue's because of the heavy male population, but tonight the boys are scarce.

I sigh, swigging on my Heineken as I try to scope out someone suitable.

"Hey sexy," says a deep smooth voice. I mentally roll my eyes and groan inwardly. Of course, despite the depleted number of cock to cunt ratio, there would be a gay guy here to hit on me.

"Not interested," I pipe back coolly.

A large hand grips my wrist lightly and places my palm against the front of his jeans, right over his cock. Okay, so it's big, and probably pretty good, but I've had bigger.

"Now are you interested?"

I roll my head towards the ass-muncher who can't take a hint and groan, snapping my hand away from his dick. "Fucking Christ, Emmett, would you give it up already?"

Emmett laughs because he realizes that I had no idea it was him as I hadn't been looking. "Sweetie, it's you who needs to give it up," Emmett says back, sidling up beside me and trying to be covert as he makes a grab for my ass.

I sigh and sit down at an empty barstool because I know smacking Emmett around is only going to make him more feisty. He's a relentless oaf and his eyes have been locked on my balls since the first time we met, three years ago. He has it bad, but I kind of love him a little bit for it.

" _Sweetie,_ " I say back mockingly, "I'm hunting for virgin ass, so go away. You'll blow my—"

"I would blow you, if you let me," Emmett interrupts, giving me a saucy wink.

"Seriously," I deadpan, not asking if he is serious, because I know he is, but warning him to cool the fuck down. He  _will_ blow my cover. He's huge and... flamboyant, really hard to miss.

I'm on a bit of a dry spell after my last boy got super clingy and started stalking me. I apparently didn't do very good research. Emmett's offer for a free BJ are looking a bit too good at the moment.

I grow hopeful when fresh meat enters and it sounds like college boys. They cause a raucous and I'm immediately craning my neck to see them because I am admittedly getting a bit desperate. I sit back down in my seat with a defeated humph when I realize they all seem to have a bad case of emo going on. They are all pasty white and morbid looking. I'm not interested at all, though they seem to have caught the attention of the group of goth girls in the corner. At least someone is going to potentially get some.

"So, I have a proposition for you."

"I'm not interested, Emmett," I say, a lot irritably.

"Just listen, I swear it doesn't involve my cock, though you  _are_ missing out on my cock, Jazzy. It's very,  _very_  nice. Much better than those little virgin twinks you drool all over."

"Emmett, I don't have the time or patience," I warn.

He gives me flirtatious smile and moves closer. "You know how I love it when you get angry," he purrs. Yes, he is so gay that he fucking purrs.

"Fine, just fucking tell me already," I groan, rubbing my temples.

"So there's this guy..." he trails off and I shoot him a disbelieving look. He knows I don't do gay men, which can only mean… "A straight guy."

My ears perk up and I scoot closer to him. "I'm listening."

"He's fucking amazing, Jazz, like unghhh," he moans. His eyes dart to me and he adds seriously, "He's hotter than you, and you know how I feel about you."

He gives my thigh a squeeze while I'm a bit distracted, about two fucking inches from my cock and I want to smack him, but I know he'll like that, so instead I just ignore him. His hand doesn't leave my thigh as he rambles off this story about some guy he went to high school with. I don't listen very closely until he starts describing him to me.

"His mouth was fucking designed to suck cock, Jazz. His lips are so fucking hot. And his jaw, oh my fuck, it is huge and amazing." Emmett is leaning closer and I can feel his breath, but I'm too intrigued by this guy he describes to give a fuck. "His ass is firm and tight as fuck, it's edible. He's straight and  _so_  not interested. You'll fucking love him." He's rubbing my dick through my pants now and I get hard even though it's Emmett, and Emmett  _doesn't_ do that for me, at all. Yet, he's rubbing me and describing this sexy motherfucker and I spot my very own sexy motherfucker across the room.

I cut Emmett off with a, "Got to go."

So with a woody, I chug the rest of my Heineken and leave Emmett there smirking to go get a closer look at the eye candy I've spotted. The closer I get, the more I realize that he's fucking perfect.

His hair is wild and bronze and all over the fucking place and I want to grab it and fuck his perfect mouth. His lips are pouty and red, his teeth look white and straight as he chews his lip while staring at something. His thick, hard jaw is shadowed with scruff and I know that he's as much the cause for my boner as Emmett's skilled ball fondling was. I try to nonchalantly re-shift my erection into a more comfortable position as I make my way towards the fuckhot piece of ass sitting by himself.

His eyes are green and vibrant, yet fierce in a disturbing way as they meet mine. I nod towards the empty seat at his table and ask him if I may sit. He nods once and looks away from me.

Neither of us speak for about five minutes and I find myself growing restless. I really wish I had brought my drink with me instead of chugging it or got a new one so I could occupy myself with something while he just sits there.

The man doesn't pay me any mind as he rolls his neck from side to side, popping loose another button on his crisp white shirt. I think it looks like he may have been wearing a full suit at one point, but now he's only in the dress pants and the white button down. I imagine there was a tie at one point by the way his collar is laying and I wish he would have left the tie on loosely so I can imagine guiding him to my cock with it a bit better.

He continues to ignore me as a waitress steps up to him and offers him a drink that I assume he must have ordered at one point. When she turns to leave he lightly grasps her thigh to stop her and throws back his entire drink in one go. She gives him a bit of a dirty look for grabbing her but he just smirks and her face instantly turns into one of those stupid female 'I'm wetting myself for you' faces. I scoff at the woman, but get harder for the man, because he's obviously into the pussy and I fucking love that. Plus, he's just the hottest motherfucker I've ever seen. Ever.

"Long day?" I inquire after the slutty waitress leaves.

He hums an affirmative and doesn't look at me at all. His body turns slightly so he can see the live band better and I find I can see down his shirt a little bit as he leans onto the table. The wife beater he has on underneath is hugging his chest which looks strong and well muscled, even though he looks kind of slight from afar. I'm willing to bet he's definitely not little—hopefully that pertains to  _all_ of him.

"Would you like a drink?" I ask.

He doesn't look at me to snark out a sharp, "That's what waitresses are for."

Christ, he's either in a bad mood or he's an asshole. I snark back. "No shit? I thought they were just here for you to grope."

He is obviously angry as he turns to glare at me. Fuck me sideways, he looks even hotter when he's pissed. "Okay, listen here,  _Jazz_ , I'm not fucking interested so go away."

I'm taken aback and I hesitate slightly. I want to ask him what the fuck he's talking about but instead I ask, "How the fuck do you know my..." I trail off realizing I don't let anyone call me 'Jazz' but one person does anyway. "What the fuck did Emmett say to you?" I growl.

"Enough," the guy answers simply.

I quickly scan the crowd and it's not hard to spot Emmett. He's like an elephant amongst a herd of gazelles; they move gracefully while he tromps along, plus he's huge. Emmett is staring at us, grinning like the fucking Cheshire cat or the one who ate the fucking canary or whatever. He looks way too fucking proud of himself. I swear to God, I'll kill him if he ruined this for me.

"I want to fucking know what he told you," I say roughly, turning to look back at the hot motherfucker who's name I don't know.

He sighs and rolls his eyes dramatically then pulls one long fingered hand through his wild hair, and I figure that's why it's standing on end so badly, it must be his habit. It's pretty hot. "He didn't tell me anything really. I know he's... g-gay," he stutters out, looking uncomfortable using it, like maybe it's the N-word and taboo. "He like, had a thing for me in high school and I saw him rubbing your dick, so I figured you must be the Jazz dude he said was 'super hot'." He uses air-quotes and I almost laugh. "So, yeah, I'm not interested," he concludes.

"In what?" I ask honestly. I don't really have a clue what he's talking about, but I have deduced that Emmett was totally fucking setting me up by telling me about him then basically aiming me right for him. Bastard has some ulterior motive and I sure as hell am not going to sit here and take his bullshit.

"Whatever you and your boyfriend have planned. I don't do guys. Ever, at all."

"Emmett is  _not_ my boyfriend, nor has he ever been, nor will he ever be," I say, really sharply and probably a bit loudly. I might be hoping that Emmett can hear me. "I don't  _do_ gay guys. Ever, at all," I say, mocking him a little bit. I don't make it a point to say that I am actually gay though.

He finally seems to really look at me then. I kind of want to say he's checking me out, but he is probably just sizing me up, as competition for poon or something. "Oh, sorry," he says lackadaisically. I know he isn't really sorry. He shrugs one shoulder up then lets it drop. "Just assumed since he was all up on your privateers."

"Will you excuse me a moment, I need to go kick Emmett's ass. While I'm up, do you want a drink?" I ask.

"Sure. Whatever you're getting, as long as it's not fruity or something."

I laugh, mostly because I think he actually is an asshole. He doesn't seem to hate gays and he doesn't seem afraid of the thought, but I really fucking like that he's being cocky and a prick. It's fucking hot.

With a look that I hope is threatening, I make my way back to Emmett who just looks really fucking excited. I want to kick in his teeth, which is absolutely nothing he should be getting a boner about.

"I'm going to kill you if you fucked this up for me," I growl menacingly, or at least I think I sound menacing because I know I'm completely serious.

Emmett just gives me his best bedroom eyes. "God, you look so fucking hot right now."

I slam my fist down on the bar and he quivers, though I highly doubt it's out of fear. "You listen to me, Emmett, I will never be with you, ever, so whatever bullshit scheme you have all planned out, forget about it. I won't be a part of it, I want nothing from you."

Emmett looks smug and horny, the two feelings I had tried to eradicate. "Oh, Jasper, I do have something you want."

He continues to smirk and reaches into his pocket, I look away, assuming he's going to cup his balls or something. I call to the bartender and order two beers so I can get away from stupid Emmett and back to the man I actually find attractive as soon as possible.

I hear something beeping and my attention is drawn back to Emmett who is messing around with his phone. I ignore him, thankful his mind doesn't seem focused on me for once. I'd like to keep it that way. Suddenly his phone is being shoved in my face and I unconsciously go cross eyed from him holding the fucking screen so close.

"Who does that look like to you, sexy?" he asks excitedly.

I try to blink to focus my eyes but it doesn't work. I grab his wrist and shove his hand back so I can actually see what he's talking about. I gasp because his finger slips and not only do I see the really fucking hot guy's face, but also what looks to be the head of his penis. Emmett quickly pulls his phone back and stuffs it down the front of his pants. He's not completely stupid, it would seem; he apparently knows I won't be digging in there, even for a picture of the hottie and his seemingly really hot cock.

"What the fuck was that?" I ask.

"I think you got a better gist of what that was than I expected to give you."

"How do you have a picture of his fucking cock?" I demand. Mostly I'm really jealous, but I'm also terrified that I'm going to lose this really hot piece of ass for being already gay curious, or worse, a full-fledged cock lover.

"So you know how I started to tell you about going to high school with him?" Emmett asks, leaning in towards me.

I take a step away, not interested in being within grabbing distance of him again. I nod, though I actually didn't listen at all to a word he'd said before.

"Well, he was dating this girl. She was a complete hornball. I think her name was Bella, yeah, Bella. So Bella was a hornball and she convinced him to take pictures of himself masturbating and send them to her. After she let it slip one night when she was wasted that she had nudey pics of him on her phone, I stole the fucker and sent them to myself. I have the whole set."

I groan, really fucking loudly. He has jerk off pictures of that hot piece of ass… Oh my fuck.

Emmett nods. "I know, Jazz, I know. Those pictures alone have been more beneficial to me than any other spank-bank material ever."

"What the fuck do you want?" I ask him, because I'm really starting to get nervous now. Is he going to blackmail me or Hottie McHotpants?

"Honestly Jazz, nothing. I just wanted to fuck with you a little. Here are your drinks," he says, handing me my two beers. "Go get him, tiger."

I stare blankly at him as he shoves me away, drinks in hand. He's lying, he has to be.

I try to push it from my mind as I make my way back to the man's table. Shit, I don't know his name yet, I should have asked Emmett.

Offering  _him_ his beer, I say, "Hey, so my name is Jasper. Never call me 'Jazz' or 'Jazzy' or anything else that relates to jazz."

He nods. "Nice to meet you, Jasper. How did Emmett take the news?"

"That he won't be fucking either of us?" I ask. Admittedly, I just do it to make sure he has the appropriate reaction. I'm not disappointed, he cringes and looks like he might gag. He nods again to answer my question. "He's a bit upset, but I'm sure he'll get over it."

"He's still staring over here," he says.

I take a draw from my bottle and swish it around while I look over my shoulder to see Emmett staring. Yes, that fucker definitely has a plan. "He's a bit obsessed with me," I admit. "It's really quite sad and pathetic. What's your name?" I ask. It's a bad transition, but I'm curious and I don't usually beat around the bush.

"Edward."

Edward. Huh, kind of fitting. 'Edward' sounds kind of manly, rugged. I could definitely see myself moaning the name Edward at the top of my lungs until my throat was raw. Hmm.

"Nice to meet you, Edward," I say, offering him my hand over the table.

He's staring at me dubiously. He offers his own hand slowly and grips mine firmly, shaking once then pulling me closer to him over the table.

I get an instant erection from his bold move, though it's really stupid because I know it's entirely too soon for a  _straight_  boy to be making advances. It's still hot.

He doesn't kiss me, or lick my neck, or even touch my hair, but he steals my bottle of beer and gives me his own.

"I don't trust you, Jasper," he says.

I quirk an eyebrow and try to calm my breathing. "You shouldn't," I admit. I take a deep swallow out of the bottle he has traded me and he does the same.

I am a bit transfixed by the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows. I continue to stare as his jaw unhinges and he speaks. I love the way his neck flexes; I can imagine myself licking, sucking, and biting the corded tendons as he arches his head back whilst we make love.

I attempted to make conversation with Edward for a hour or more, but he really wasn't the most receptive. Well, he might have been a bit more talkative, but about every five minutes a skank would come along and interrupt us. He didn't give a shit, obviously, because half of them were drunk off their asses and willingly grinding up on his business while he just sat there. I really fucking gave a shit though. Bitches are rude, can't they see I'm working?

I started to just ignore them and talked while they ground, but they would get all needy and whine something about taking them home. Edward made the same excuse every time.

"Sorry, I have to work in the morning."

I admittedly was a bit irritated when he used the same excuse on me. "Oh yeah, where do you work, hotshot?" I ask, quirking a brow.

"Promise not to fall all over me when I tell you?" he replies with a smirk. He's flirting, definitely flirting.

"No promises, I might not be able to control myself if you're rich," I say jokingly, mostly, maybe flirting back just a little.

"I probably shouldn't tell you then."

I start to laugh, but he looks completely serious. "So, who are you, like Patrick Dempsey's body double?"

He smirks and rubs his chest. "I am. How did you guess? This smoking body totally gave me away again, didn't it?"

I really want to jump onto the table and start licking his neck, as I tell him that yes, it definitely was the smoking body of his that gave him away. Christ, he is fucking hot.

Edward reaches into his back pocket and I admire the way his body is arched. "Here," he says finally, handing me a card that he practically dug out of his ass. I am smart enough not to rub it against my face and caress it softly, in public.

I scan the card, then my mouth probably drops open in shock because I hear him chuckle. I recognize the name of one of Seattle's most prominent law firms and my first instinct is to not believe him.

"Bullshit," I say, shaking my head.

He smirks even more cockily than normal. "Call the cell number," he urges.

I pull out my cell phone and watch him carefully. He continues to smirk. I dial the cell number that is listed on the card. Again, he simply continues to sit there smirking. I press send and put the phone up to my ear. The call connects and rings into my ear. He pulls out a cell phone and answers, staring directly into my eyes.

"Edward Cullen, attorney at law, how can I be of service to you?" I hear, both in person and through the phone.

Holy. Fuck. I'm pretty sure that I come in my jeans, at least a little bit. He can be of service to me in so many ways.

It's definitely official. He is my new boy. I'm without a doubt getting into his pants as soon as possible.

I attempt to roll my tongue back into my mouth. I'm not sure that I'm capable of being nonchalant at the moment, but I try anyway. I shrug and say, "Nice. Are you even old enough to be an 'attorney at law'?"

He glares, though he doesn't necessarily look seriously angry. "I'm still in school, so no. But it's my father's firm and I intern there."

"Oh, so you're Carlisle's son, right?"

His brow crinkles as he stares at me disbelievingly. "You really haven't heard of me, have you?"

"No, not really," I say honestly. "I've seen Carlisle on the television commercials for the firm, but, no, I've never heard of you."

He shakes his head at me. "Dude, I'm hurt, deeply." He grabs his beer and chugs the remnants down. "Well, hey, I gotta head out, so if you promise not to look me up on the internet, I might tell you the real story sometime."

Is that a date offer, Mr. Cullen? "Well, hey now, hold on a second, I'm curious about something." He waits with a look of bored interest. "What did you come here for? You've been shooing the ladies away like flies and are leaving alone." I'm honestly curious.

"I didn't come here to get my rocks off, man. I'm here for the good music and the free alcohol." He smirks at me. "The free alcohol usually comes from the chicks that I don't take home. I'm not gonna lie, you may have been slightly more entertaining, though greatly less attractive."

I don't have to pretend to be offended. I am offended. "Asshole!"

He puts his hands up defensively. "Hey, I told you, I don't do dudes, so what did you expect?" He quirks an eyebrow questioningly. That definitely wasn't just a rhetorical question, unfortunately. Maybe his gaydar is picking up on my cock loving tendencies.

I play with my hair and jut my chest out. "It's just really rude to call someone who's obviously hot unattractive, you know?" I say. I get the desired reaction when he laughs and his question is deflected, he is really not ready to hear what I expect yet. "So, are you married then?" I ask. There isn't a ring in sight, but I ask anyway.

"No, I'm not married. Gotta go, Jasper. I'll see you around."

I watch his ass as he walks away and yell above the music, "You're paying next time, and you're telling me your 'real story'."

I can see his shoulders shaking with laughter as he flips me the bird without looking back, his head shakes from side to side and I find myself grinning in response.

I'm so going to bone him, and he doesn't even know it.

As soon as Edward is gone, Emmett invites himself to my table, plopping his ass in Edward's chair with a sigh. I immediately stand to leave, but I have to walk past him and because he's enormous, he's stronger than me. He pulls me down into his lap. I start punching him in the ribs to make him let go.

"Guess you don't want to see those pictures then, huh?" he says hurriedly as he tries to block my blows.

I freeze. Yeah, he is going to fucking hold those bad boys over my head until he gets what he wants. "What do you want?" I ask.

"How did it go, Jazz? Do you think he's going to succumb to your gay little ways?"

"Yes, actually I'm supposed to be following him now," I say. "He invited me into his ass den the minute I told him my dick is twelve-point-four-seven inches in diameter."

"Edward drives an Aston," Emmett says, like it's the most fucking normal thing to say after I told him my cock was astronomically huge.

"Let me the fuck go, Emmett. Right now, or I'll yell for security and get your ass thrown out of here," I threaten.

Emmett sighs. "Fine, Jazz, be that way, but just so you know, if you start to play nice with me, I'll give you Edward's pictures."

"I'm not playing anything with you, Emmett. I'll see his dick for myself and it'll be my hand wrapped around him jerking him off. The reality is much better than the imaginary, but you wouldn't know since you're too busy chasing things you can't have."

Emmett laughs. "That's a bit hypocritical coming from you, don't you think, Jasper?"

I pat Emmett on the cheek, then break his hold on me to stand up. "No, I'll get what I want."

Emmett smiles and says, "So will I."

–

After leaving the club, I am left to contemplate how to go about getting rid of Emmett without compromising my situation with Edward. It's too late to pretend I'm not interested in Edward, because Emmett won't fall for that. There is also the niggling little detail that I hate losing. Giving up Edward would be like losing, to Emmett of all people. I can't fucking lose to Emmett; I especially cannot lose Edward to Emmett. Edward has the potential to become my greatest lay ever.

Once I arrive home, I immediately strip off my clothes and put them in the washing machine. I brush my teeth quickly, then jump into the shower. I hate the smell of stale smoke and taste of old beer on my tongue.

Under the warm spray of water, I get hard thinking about Edward. I soap up my hands and jerk off imagining fucking Edward's mouth. He's got an amazing mouth, I definitely want to get my dick in it, maybe even more than I want to get it into his tight ass. I stroke myself in time with fantasy Edward's fast moving mouth. The water pounds soothingly against my neck and back and I come fast. I imagine pulling almost completely out of Edward's mouth and watching myself come on his tongue and it makes my toes curl.

Satisfied for the time being, I finish showering and dry off in the bathroom. I keep my house set at a decent temperature and my blinds closed up for a reason, and tonight is like any other night. I roam my house naked, as I prefer to do, and munch on an apple as I try to talk myself into going to bed. It's late and I should go to sleep, but I can't get my mind off of Edward and I know if I go to bed, I'll probably just end up jerking off again, and possibly again, and then again if I'm still not asleep. I'm prone to binge-jerking when bored and horny, as most men are, but with the possibility of getting my dick played with by Edward himself, I really don't want to make it sore by overdoing it. And by overdoing it, I mean jacking off repeatedly, which I will do because Edward is fucking hot, and now I'm hard again.

Biting off the last chunk of my apple, I toss it in the trash then make my way back to my entry hall where my washer and dryer is. I switch the washed clothes into the dryer, and when I'm reaching for a lone sock that's at the far bottom of the washer, my hot, painfully hard cock rubs against the cold, unforgiving hard metal wash machine. I gasp and pull away, then push against it again, because I kind of like the painful, yet pleasurable feeling.

My phone beeps and Emmett's name shows up on the screen, flashing that I have '1 New Text'. I almost expect it to say 'I see you fucking your washing machine, Jazzy' but it doesn't. I stop fucking my washing machine though because who does that? It's creepy. Fucking Emmett would be better than fucking a washing machine.

I shudder at the thought and take it back. Fucking a washer is definitely better than ever putting my dick anywhere near Emmett. I grab my discarded phone, wallet, and Edward's card and go to my couch, where I lay on my erection to hopefully squish it to death. I make myself promise not to hump the couch because the leather will cause some serious chafing and I really want my dick un-chafed for Edward.

I read Emmett's text, which is just the number eight, some equal signs, a capital 'D', and some squiggly lines, arranged in that order to make a text penis that is jizzing. I delete the message and set my phone down, but as soon as I do, it lights up again with another text from Emmett.

 _Edward's pictures still get the job done_.

I groan and delete the message. I'm incredibly jealous that Emmett has pictures of Edward jerking his cock. Emmett of course knows this and will taunt me mercilessly until I give in to whatever it is that he wants. Right now, I'm thinking that he wants me to sleep with him, and right now, the prospect of sleeping with someone isn't looking so bad.

The problem is not that Emmett is unattractive, he's actually very good-looking, and I was actually attracted to him at one point. The problem is that he's gay. Like, life partner gay. He wants to make me his mate, or something like that, and it's such a huge turn off for me. Were he not so blatantly obvious and flamboyantly homo, I could probably actually just get it over with and do him, but he just... wants it too much. Maybe one day he'll learn to tone it done and pretend that he's the one out of my league, and maybe I'll be horny enough to fuck him, but for now, no amount of horniness, or number of sexy pictures, would get him into my pants. I can, and will, wait to see Edward's cock.

I grab Edward's card and study it for a while. The card is boring, to say the least. It's white and crisp and uptight, and I wonder if Edward is much like this card. I don't think he is. I think he's probably well-rounded, considering he's a lawyer, but I think there is another side to him. There is a website listed on the card, so I set the card down and grab my laptop.

I know I kind of, not really, promised I wouldn't look him up on the internet, but I'm curious. On the website, there is a picture with some people I do not recognize, and two that I do. Carlisle I recognize from commercials and ads and Edward I definitely know. A group of men and women are standing on a stone staircase in front of a huge building with glass windows, dressed in expensive looking suits. Edward looks very serious, and very sexy, surrounded by the mostly older crowd.

I click on a link that says 'The Cullens' and it brings me to a page with a picture of three men and two women. Under the picture it says, 'Ed Cullen, Irina Cullen, Carlisle Cullen, Esme Cullen, and Edward Cullen'.

Edward is noticeably related to the men, though I can't find a single likeliness between him and any of the women. I assume the picture holds three generations of Cullens: Ed, the grandfather; Carlisle, the father; and Edward, the son. I assume 'Esme' is probably Edward's mother, but there is no resemblance at all. Carlisle looks like Irina—who is obviously his mother—with his blonde hair and blue eyes, but his face and body appear very similar to Edward's. I have no idea where Edward's bronze hair and green eyes came from. A family throw back, maybe.

Or a scandal. Perhaps that is why he didn't want me searching the internet for him. Edward Cullen, attorney at law, and illegitimate son? Yeah, I definitely smell a scandal.

Bored, and still not tired—and desperately wanting to feel someone's mouth on my cock—I grab my handy sketch pad and a discarded pencil. I quickly sketch Carlisle and Ed's profiles onto the paper, then I rigorously render Edward's profile on the page. Every last detail of his face is transferred onto the paper. His jaw and eyes are difficult to replicate, but I do my best off of memory and the pictures still up on my laptop. I save his lips for last, knowing I won't be able to resist imaging them doing delightful things to me again. I'm not wrong; as soon as I start shaping them, I grow hard again. I spend a long time filling in the details—the fullness, the shape, the shadows, the creases. It all has to be just right. My dick starts to ache from being hard so long with the weight of my body pressing it into the couch, so I put my book aside and roll over.

I don't have any lube nearby so I spit on my hand and start stroking myself slowly.

I want to know what Edward tastes like. His mouth and his neck and his nipples and his fingers, I want to lick them. I want to lick all of him. I want to kiss his chest and stomach, to dip my tongue into his bellybutton, to tease the sensitive skin near his hips with my tongue and to just taste  _him_. I want to feel his cock in my mouth, to taste him on the back of my tongue and in my throat. I want to tease the slit of his cock with the tip of my tongue to press my lips against his balls while he's deep in my throat. I want to taste his come in my mouth, to feel him coming in my mouth.

I groan and slide my hand along my shaft more quickly as I imagine what he'd feel like coming against my tongue.

I want to feel his hands in my hair as he fucks my mouth. I want to feel the pressure of the head of his cock pressing into my throat, to hear him grunt my name as he nears climax and watches his cock fucking my mouth. I want to see him jump and hear him hiss when I press my fingers between his ass cheeks. I want to see him throw his head back when he can't take it anymore. I want to hear him coming undone, to know that he wants it as I tease his ass, to see the way he looks at me when he realizes how good it feels.

I want to be the one who changes him, I want so badly to teach him how much he is missing. I want him to want my cock and I want him to want to give me his cock. I just fucking want him.

I feel myself getting close and I throw my head back against the sofa, closing my eyes to imagine him better as I focus on the head of my cock, knowing it'll get me off. I imagine him going down on me again, the unsure and shy look he'll give me as he licks my dick for the first time.

I twist my hand over the top of my cock, gathering the moisture there and spread it around my head. I can feel my thighs starting to tense and my neck arches back as I groan. I think about Edward looking up at me as he takes me into his mouth, his hair falling into his eyes as he sucks and licks at my head. My hips start to buck against my hand and I feel the indicative tightening in my stomach and testicles.

I slow my movements as my climax builds, drawing it out and edging for as long as I can take it. My thighs quiver and I hear myself whimper unintentionally as the pleasure becomes nearly painful from the prolongment. Finally, I can't take it anymore and I fist the head of my cock. My hips press up hard with quick, jerky thrusts, fucking my hand as I grunt and groan through the pleasure.

I come hard—much harder than normal for a self-induced orgasm, but Edward already seems capable of bringing me so much pleasure. I can feel my come on my stomach and my hand, but I don't care, I ignore it and close my eyes. The euphoria of the orgasm keeps my body tingling and my mind numb while I try to catch my breath.

Post climatic, I want to call Edward, but logically I know I can't do that. One of the most important steps to the process is to always be on your game. Calling him immediately after an orgasm because I want to hear his voice before he has any idea what is going on is about as far from 'on my game' as I can get.

But still, I pick up my phone and program his name and number in, saving it into my contacts for easy access for any time I may need it.


	2. Chapter 2

The night after I met Edward, I go to Rogue's again, but this time I'm not scouting for a fuck. This time I'm waiting to see if my Mr. Right shows up again. I get myself a small table close to the stage and wait. I sip my beer slowly, enjoying the live music.

Occasionally, someone tries to take the seat that I've deemed as Edward's, but I tell them to fuck off. Thank God, Emmett isn't here to fuck with me. I nearly cream myself when I see Edward pulling out the chair and wearing a smirk that matches his v-neck tee and well-fit jeans perfectly.

"Thanks for saving me a seat. How's the set tonight?"

Oh, sweet fuck, his voice is even sexier than I remember it. I stumble over my thoughts and try to gather my bearings as he raises his eyebrows at me, obviously waiting for an answer.

"Are you with someone? Did I take their chair?" he asks confusedly.

 _Son of a fuck, Jasper, get it together._

"No, sorry, I just wasn't expecting you. Set's good tonight."

Edward cocks a provocative eyebrow and I find myself wanting to lick him more than ever. I grab my beer and quickly swallow everything the bottle has to give. I'm usually not nervous, but Edward affects me like a prom queen affects a nerdy freshman—I'm sadly the freshman. I really need to get my shit straight and get back to being the prom queen I know I am.

I wave my empty bottle towards one of the waitresses and she stalks over like she is pussy on a platter and we're going to eat up. I'm incredibly annoyed by her meager swagger, I can strut better than that with a dick up my ass.

"What can I get you, boys?" she asks in a deep, throaty voice and I find myself staring at her legs, wondering if she's a tranny. I can usually tell. Her thighs do seem awfully large for her slender build.

"Tall vodka on the rocks," Edward mutters off.

"Another beer," I say, handing her my bottle.

She winks and saunters away, I can't help but laugh. " _That_  is a dude," I say seriously, through laughs.

Edward tilts his head to the side and scratches the back of his head while he stares at her—his—ass. "Really?" he asks.

"Yes, really, her bulge was bigger than yours."

Edward's face turns very serious while I continue to laugh. My laughter dies off the instant he grabs his goods through his jeans. "Never insult the package, Jasper, never." He gives  _the package_ a final squeeze for emphasis and I try not to stare too long or hard, but I can't help it.

Thankfully there is a commotion on stage and my attention is diverted before he can notice that I'm drooling over his bulge, which I can now really see, since he shifted it into a prime position for ogling.

"Oh, shit," Edward laughs and I snap my head back towards the stage. I really need to get some control.

There is a drunk chick up on stage, tripping over the band's electrical equipment while she tries to take her shirt off. She looks young and attractive and Edward wolf whistles loudly to encourage her. I bristle, pissed that these drunk, horny college girls can't keep it in their pants, or shirts, while I'm trying to work. Security shows up before the twins can come out to play, thank God, and Edward joins the crowd in booing. To be a good sport, I halfheartedly yell a crude word at the security man as he walks by, dragging the drunk girl, and Edward laughs.

Our drinks arrive and our waitress-slash-waiter flutters his, or her, eyes in what I assume is suppose to be an attractive way. "Can I get you two sexy fellas anything else?"

We both quickly shake our heads to the negative. I try to disguise my laugh by taking a drink from my fresh bottle. We are both silent for a while, both of us enjoying the band, or perhaps just the awkward silence.

There is a break in music and I ask, "So, how was your work day, hotshot?"

He shrugs and sips his vodka. "Fine. What do you do?"

A thrill of excitement shoots down my spine as he asks the question about me. I chew my lip nervously, not sure how he'll take my admission. I honestly don't think he'll take me seriously.

"I, uh, I'm an artist," I say, a bit self-consciously. I'm not usually insecure about my career of choice, but once again, Edward seems to have the upper hand and I can't help but feel raw.

"That's cool," he says, but I swear I see him hiding a smirk behind his glass when he takes a drink.

"Thanks," I say back, a bit coldly.

"What kind of art?" he asks.

I don't know if he's patronizing me or honestly curious, I can't tell by his expression either way. He's staring towards the stage while talking to me. I don't know if I bore him or if he's uncomfortable or socially awkward, but it's really kind of rude.

"I draw," I say simply.

He nods. "Anything?"

"No, not anything. I'm not great at landscape or animals, but people generally interest me and the occasional freeform design."

He purses his lips and nods. His eyes don't move from the new band that is setting up and I sigh to myself and lean back in my chair. So much for conversation.

"So can you do tattoos?" he asks, interrupting my internal dialog about how good looks truly trump all.

I turn to give him a dirty look and I'm surprised to find that he is actually facing me. "Did I say anything about being a fucking tattoo artist?" I ask rather curtly.

Edward smirks. "Have beef with tattoo artists, do you?"

I did have beef with a tattoo artist once, and by beef of course I mean... never mind. "No, but I do have beef with ignorant assholes."

His smirk doesn't falter as he leans back into his chair. "So now I'm an ignorant asshole?"

"There a big difference between a tattoo 'artist' and an  _actual_ artist. So yes, to answer your question, you are an ignorant asshole. You've offended me."

He snorts and rolls his eyes at me. "Don't be such a girl. If you would pull that tampon out of your vagina, you'd realize that I actually was complimenting you."

"I didn't once hear anything remotely sounding like a compliment," I scoff.

"Maybe you should let me explain."

"Maybe you should just spit it out already."

"Maybe you should stop being such a girl."

"Maybe you should stop being such an asshole."

"You do realize you are arguing with a lawyer, right? I can do this all night, Jasper."

I wonder what else he could do all night, probably a lot things. His asshole-y behavior is really kind of pissing me off and turning me on at the same time, and that's not looking like a good combination. I can't exactly have angry sex with him and it sure as hell looks like we won't literally be kissing and making up anytime soon. Unfortunately for my cock, which is currently rather pissed off at me. Unfortunately for his cock too, because I am one hell of a lay.

"Are you going to come the fuck out with it or what?" I ask defensively. I honestly think he's mocking me, I really don't like being mocked. If he wasn't so fucking excruciatingly cock-exciting, I'd leave his ass to pay for my drinks and find someone who didn't have a stick up their ass—no pun intended.

"Don't be like that," Edward says, he sounds sort of desperate. "I'm sorry," he sighs, and he actually sounds like he is.

I peek over at him from the corner of my eye, and that's when I realize I've pretty much completely turned myself away from him. How I managed to hunch my shoulders up to my ears without even realizing it is beyond me. I guess he was getting to me more than I realized.

"You're a little... intimidating," I admit, dumbfounded. I'm rarely intimidated by anything. I turn in my seat to face Edward again and he remains facing me, for once. Maybe we're actually going to have a conversation?

Edward snorts and throws his deliciously muscled arms over his delectably muscled chest. "Don't be too intimidated, Jasper, I'm not even a real lawyer." He smiles crookedly and I'm pretty sure my boner hits astronomical limits. Gone are the intimidated feelings, replaced with ones lustfully driven. "Yet," Edward adds, seemingly as an after thought. I barely catch on.

I swallow thickly trying to clear my throat in an inconspicuous manner. "I want to hear my compliment now."

Edward rolls his eyes, keeping his arms crossed over his chest. He leans further back into his chair. "Well, I was going to ask a small favor, which was the compliment, but I changed my mind."

His hand darts up to his hair in a movement that I don't see coming, it's quick and jerky, and his eyes dart away and I get the feeling that he's nervous.

I don't get much time to think about that, or to inquire why he changed his mind. A ridiculously loud and tall blonde chooses that very moment to give him a free lap dance. I'm more disturbed when there is a tiny hand reaching deep into my hair and fisting the roots. I gulp, thinking someone has come to kick my ass, but instead, this freakishly small girl—woman?—squeezes herself between myself and the table, pressing her bony ass right into the semi I'm still rocking. My almost-but-not-quite woody disappears faster than my uncle Aro when an episode of America's Most Wanted comes on.

The tiny freak in my lap moans like she's in a porno or something than grabs onto my shoulder to add more oomph to her horrid grinding. Seriously, what the fuck is going on?

"Oh, my God," breathes the bony-assed bitch and she half turns her body, giving her blonde friend that's working Edward over a thumbs up.

She apparently approves of what I'm packing. All I can think about is how good it would feel to have Edward's much,  _much_ nicer ass pressed against my groin right this fucking moment. Oh my God, I want to dirty dance with him like it's still 1987.

Thinking about Edward's fuckhot ass rubbing all over my dick is not a good thing right now, though. The harder I get, the more it encourages bony ass, and the more painful it becomes.

Finally, I can't stand it anymore and I shove her petite little self right the fuck off of my goods. "Seriously, your ass is bonier than a fucking skeleton. Go give someone else your bone and grind."

Her mouth is hanging open and she looks shocked with me. Oh shit, did I just blow my cover? Do I even care?

No, I don't. That is until obnoxiously loud and tall pipes up from her post on  _my—_ Edward's—cock. "I told you he was gay."

I try to remain calm, though what I really want to do is bitch slap both of them and tell them I fucked their boyfriends. I realize, of course, that I can't do that because that would give them a better shot at my potential boyfriend's—if only for a night—cock.

I don't respond to them at all, instead I just grab my drink. That doesn't work out to well since my hand is obviously shaking and I down half of it in one go.

"Listen, I'm sorry but I can't, I have to work in the morning, but you enjoy the rest of your night," Edward says and I nearly choke on my drink.

Despite how polite Edward surprisingly is, the blonde gets pissed. "Fuck you faggots," she hisses, loudly, and stomps away, dragging her miniscule friend behind her.

I bristle. The word 'faggot' is touchy for me. When used lovingly, I very much appreciate the word, because amongst homosexuals, it's almost an amusing endearment. But used maliciously, it makes me nauseous, it ruins it completely and makes me hate myself for ever using it in an affectionate way.

I want to grab the blonde by her hair and smash her pretty face in. But I don't, because I know that fucking Edward is much better revenge than anything else.

"That was harsh," Edward says, interrupting my thoughts.

I'm shocked we're in agreement. "Yeah, well, I'll get over it," I mutter.

Edward looks confused momentarily, and it clicks for both of us. He wasn't talking about the faggot comment. "I meant you comparing that girl to a skeleton."

"Oh," I say awkwardly, only adding to it with an even more awkward laugh. "I think her ass bruised my  _privateers_."

Edward doesn't laugh, though I snicker at quoting him. "Probably not as much as you bruised her ego."

I want to say something about how the blonde was the one who said the most hurtful shit of the night, but I don't.

I'm surprised when Edward talks again. "You know, I've been called gay before too, never really bothered me. I don't go out to get laid, chicks don't like being rejected, but now I'm curious. Why is it that you were bothered so much by her calling us faggots, and why didn't you seem interested at all in the girl on your lap?"

All I heard was that he was paying attention to me while the blonde gave him a lap dance. Okay, so that's not all I heard, but that's all my dick heard. My head was busy panicking. He isn't supposed to be so goddamn observant, I don't want him to know that I am gay yet.

I try to shrug nonchalantly. "It's a hurtful word, and haven't I already explained her ass was jabbing me? I was in fucking pain!"

He doesn't look like he believes a damn thing I said, but he drops it anyway.

I'm used to taking it slow, straight men don't respond to dick-charms with a snap of your fingers. The whole key is moving at an easy pace. You have to be a friend first. Get them in your pocket, then get inside of theirs. Nice and slow.

From what little time I've spent with Edward, I can already tell I'm going to need to take it even slower than usual. He's suspicious, too observant for my good—he is going to make one fucking hell of a lawyer.

The only way I can see myself getting into Edward's pants is if I keep my secret for as long as possible. Call it deceptive or immoral or whatever, but I'm not going to pretend that I actually care about the guy. It's actually an inconvenience that I have to play nice for so fucking long before I reap any benefits. My whole intention is to fuck, I sure as hell wouldn't be sitting there making friends with him if I didn't know what I had coming to me once I broke the barrier of friendship to more. When it comes down to it, I want to fuck him more than I want to be his friend, but I can't fuck him unless I become his friend first. I do what I have to do.

–

I spend a good part of the night just sipping on beer, while Edward and I continue not talking. I don't even try, it's pointless now. Conversation is clearly up to him.

He leaves the bar with basically the same departure line as the night before. I go home and spank my monkey in the shower, and I'm tired as fuck after and thankfully I can get right to sleep.

I'm a nervous mess when the following night rolls around. Will Edward show? Has Edward labeled me as a 'faggot' in his own mind? I'm ready to shit a damn brick by the time he finally shows. He's late, but he takes the seat at  _our_ table with a casual greeting.

The rest of the week seems to follow on schedule. Edward shows every night and sits with me, and Emmett stays the hell away, though at times I spot him watching from a distance like the total creep he is. Finally, I pick up my balls that seemed to have fallen off and put them back in place. I don't go to Rogue's at all for the next three nights.

I think I piss myself I get so excited when Edward texts me the third night. I'm not going to lie. If he wouldn't have reached out to me, I would have started from the beginning and just decided we weren't quite _there_ yet. But he fucking texted me.

 _Squee!_

Edward's message reads:  _Dude, are you alive?_

I respond with a simple, short:  _Yes, busy._

He replies:  _Ok. Have fun with that._

I snicker, and maybe dance around a little and squee some more, whilst I'm naked. He's so much fun. He's so fucking interested it's not even funny, even if he doesn't know  _what_ he's interested in quite yet.

About fifteen minutes later—I forced myself not to text again too soon—I shoot him another message:  _Hey Hotshot, gonna be at Rogue's tomorrow night? I think I'll finally be free then! ~J_

His response comes back pretty quickly, I don't even have a chance to put my phone down. Alright, so maybe I had the death grip on that sucker waiting for his reply.

 _J - I'll be at Rogue's around 9. Save me a seat. Set's good tonight, too bad you can't make it._

Call me an optimist, but I'm positive he's going to be a sure thing—and a fucking pistol in bed to boot. Taking into account the difference between his demeanor in public and through text, I start to wonder if maybe he is in fact a little socially inept.

I still need to hear his story.

But that can wait for now, because I totally just scored my first real date with Mr. Cullen, and he really doesn't have a clue what he's gotten himself into.

–

Knowing that Edward wasn't going to be at the bar until around nine o'clock, I waited until just shortly before then to show up. I didn't mind the extra primping time in the least. My closet is now a fucking disaster zone, but I look hot as all fucking hell. I want to fuck me—and yeah, I probably just jinxed the fuck out of myself, I likely will be fucking myself later.

There is no bouncer at Rogue's, which is really a blessing most of the time, because we all know those bastards are prejudiced against straight men. Tonight, not having a bouncer is a small curse. The place is packed, as is usual on Open Mike night. I totally forgot it was open fucking mike. Showing up late, I am hard-pressed to find a table for Edward and myself.

I end up paying off an older couple who look disgruntled by the large crowd anyway. The table is small and kind of in a shitty location, but it's better than nothing.

I laugh when I spot Edward because he's scanning the crowd for me like a hawk for its prey. Oh, if he only knew that he was actually the field mouse in danger of my sharp talons.

"Edward," I call.

I swear I see his eyes light up from across the goddamn room, but that's probably just my gay talking. He shoves his way through the crowd and the happiness I thought he radiated now just looks like aggravation.

"It's fucking packed in here, Christ. This table sucks," he grumbles as he squeezes in across from me.

"Sorry it doesn't meet your standards, Hotshot," I snark back. He looks hot, but his shitty attitude is already wearing on me. Is a 'hello' too much to ask for?

With Edward, it apparently is. "Don't call me that fucking hotshot bullshit,  _Jazz_ ," he snaps.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you disliked it," I snap back. How in the fuck did I forget how terribly fucking irritating he is? In three shorts days, I completely forgot that the pretty face didn't have a shining personality behind it. Is it worth it? Is he worth it when his manners are so shitty? He very well could turn out to be dangerous to me after all, even if he doesn't seem like a malicious gay-hating asswipe.

"Fuck, I can't see a thing from here and this table is tiny," he bitches some more.

That does it. It honestly does. I get pissed. I stand up, shoving my chair back with the force. "You know what, fuck you. I'm not apologizing to you again when I had to pay to get you a fucking seat."

I have to squeeze past him to get out, because yeah, the table is really shitty and basically shoved into a corner with no view of the stage. But seriously, show some fucking respect.

Edward grabs my arm as I try to pass, but his mouth opens and it ruins the effect, even if his skin on my skin is making me want to drop to my knees and beg him to marry me. "Calm down, stop being such a girl."

I break the hold he has on my arm and push my way angrily through the crowd. I'm surprised to actually hear him following me.

"Jasper, come on, I wasn't trying to be such an asshole," I hear him say clearly as he exits the loud club behind me.

"Tell it to someone who gives a fuck, Edward," I say. I'm shocked to hear how much it sounds like I don't care, or that the words even left me at all. I guess I don't really care, there will always be another guy so he's not that important, but shit, I hate losing.

"Don't fucking make me say this, dude," he kind of whines and I stop, a bit intrigued.

I turn to face him and he's looking a bit red and flustered, not to mention pissed off and worn out, and despite it all, he still looks sexy as hell.

"Say what?" I ask.

He groans and drops his shoulders, looking way more defeated than a person of his stature ever should. He buries both of his hands deep into his hair before grabbing fistfuls and lowering his head. "If I were a fucking girl, I'd be all emo and tell you I kind of need a friend right now," he mutters so low I can barely hear him.

I frown at the slightly pitiful image before me. He's stressed, that's obvious, but he's so fucking proud he can't even ask for help and that's what really fucking gets me. I wonder if I can make him ask for it.

"Was that you being an emo girl, asking me to be your friend? I thought I was the girl?"

I can see his mouth twitch slightly and I hold my breath. He's so goddamn moody, I don't know if he's going to smile or beat the fuck out of me.

"Shut the fuck up, Jasper, you are the girl. If you could have slammed that door, you would have," he says, his already familiar smirk back in place.

"You're damn right I would have slammed that door if I could have, and it would have been in your face. I don't care who you are, no one treats me like that," I say firmly.

His eyes move to the ground and he takes me seriously, which I didn't actually expect. He appears to be taking the reprimanding to heart. He nods when I finish and looks back up at me, through his eyelashes—which makes me wonder if he knows that it'll work like a charm on a  _sucker_  like me.

"I shouldn't have taken my shit out on you, and I'm sorry," he says sincerely. He looks like he wants to continue, but he swallows it back.

I momentarily consider inviting him to my house for drinks, but decide against it. Not yet, not tonight, not with him in a bad mood.

"Do you need a hug?" I ask jokingly, mostly.

He actually sort of smiles. "See, you're the girl."

"Fine then, I'm the girl, but you're the one who is being all woe is me, hug me please, emo bitch-like."

He shifts his weight in a sort of nervous manner which makes me plan to back off. "I didn't ask for a hug," he states defensively.

"No, but you look like you need one. Besides, lawyers need hugs too, that shit ain't sunshine and rainbows," I say gravely.

He snorts, he actually fucking snorts before he laughs. I hate that it sort of makes me tingle with excitement to know that I made him do that. I made him smile and laugh and snort like a total fucking dweeb—an incredibly adorable dweeb, at that.

"Okay, fuck this, I'm hugging you," I say and step forward, giving him this epically awkward man-hug with my ass jutted out and away from him like I'm afraid his bulge might give me cooties or something. "There, hugged it out. Feel better now?" I ask, after I hurriedly stepped away.

"That was the shittiest fucking hug I've ever had," he says back, shaking his head.

"Good, I'm glad," I say back, and he rolls his eyes at me. "So—"

"Do you—"

We both start at the same time, cutting each other off. I laugh and point to him. "You go."

"Uh, yeah, I was just gonna say that I have alcohol at my place, so you could come over, if you want."

 _Cha-ching! We have a winner_. Too bad I was going to have to turn him down. "Oh, sorry, no, I should get home."

Edward actually appears disappointed, which is great for me, but makes me feel bad. "Ah, yeah, me too. I have to study and shit. Cool, okay, I'll see you around." He starts to walk away, rather briskly, and I jog to follow him, my car is in the same direction anyway.

"Hey, maybe tomorrow. Gonna be here?"

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. "No, I have a ton of shit to do tomorrow. I'll probably just get trashed at home."

"Alone?" I ask, out of curiosity, and opportunity.

"Maybe," he says cryptically.

I nod and slow, since I'm approaching my car. "Well, you have my number," I say as he continues to walk away, "just let me know if you need a drinking buddy, I ain't got shit going on tomorrow night."

He shrugs his shoulders in response and I'm left wondering if he'll call or not.

–

He doesn't call, which doesn't surprise me.

He texts instead. The text is simple, it's his address, a time, and a note about bringing my sketchbook. I don't know why the fuck I'm supposed to bring my sketchbook, but I do as he asks.

I dress casually, yet a bit like a slut with my clothes a little tighter than usual. What the hell, I figure I'll be alone with him and I like showing off my chest and ass.

The more time I spend with Edward, the more I'm convinced that he has to somewhat socially awkward. His texts are more outgoing than he seems to be, and it makes me think that he might be sort of shy. Sexy, shy, and moody as fuck.

Fuck me sideways, I want him so bad I can barely stand it.

I drive to the address he's given me and stare up at the huge complex with disdain. He hasn't given me an apartment number. Is he really that big of an asshole that he'd make me drive completely across town to a fake address, just for the fuck of it?

I decide to park and try, despite my misgivings that he is being a fucking prick. I pull into the drive behind this fancy-shmancy looking silver Volvo and park. Determined to somehow pay the fucker back, I pull out my phone and decide that I'm going to search the whole complex for the hottest chick I can find, then take a picture of us together and tell him I nailed her, and thanks for the fake address.

I go for the steel door with a vengeance, but it's locked. Of course it is, though, a ritzy complex like this doesn't leave shit unlocked for anyone to get into. But when I search around, there isn't one of those buzz pads in sight, only a regular old door bell. Which I slam my hand against rather forcefully. They probably have a bellboy or something.

The door swings open, and instead of a lobby, there is the wide fucking entrance that looks like it came straight out of MTV Cribs or some shit.

"Motherfuck," I mutter.

"Meester Jasber?" asks this accented little brunette that I hadn't even noticed until I looked down. She is fucking tiny.

"Jess, who's at the fucking door?" I hear Edward call.

Holy fuck balls, this is his house?

Apparently, because he comes around the corner, carrying a book and wearing a pair of fuck-me reading glasses that make me hard enough to cut glass. I immediately regret the tight-ish jeans. He glances down at his watch and mutters a curse word.

"Fuck, Jess, let him in, it's Jasper. Andele, andele!" he says, waving his book at her. He shakes his head at me when she finally steps out of the way and shuts the door behind me. "Sorry, Jasper, she's very no comprende."

"Me cago en la madre que te parió!" she hisses at him as she walks by.

"Que te jodan!" he snaps back at her, actually enunciating correctly.

It's pretty hot hearing him use another language, even if he is swearing at the cute little Mexican girl that's in his house.

"Why are you even still here, Jessica? Haven't you finished cleaning yet?"

"Gilipoyas," she spits at him. "Maybe I be finish if you weren't such peeg."

Edward rolls his eyes at her and walks away, muttering about 'good help' and 'ingrates'. I don't know whether to be amused or feel bad.

As I start to follow behind Edward, I say, "It was nice meeting you, Jessica."

She frowns at me and says, "Puta." She then turns on her heel and stomps away, flipping her hair like she owns the place.

I'm astounded, and Edward is very obviously smirking at me from over his shoulder. "She's a bitch, don't be too offended."

He flops down into a huge leather sofa which is surrounded by the most ornately designed fucking room I've ever seen. It's ridiculous.

"Is this your fucking house?" I ask.

"No. Not yet, anyway," Edward answers. "It's the old man's 'summer house' and he doesn't use it anymore. It's in a good location, so I'm borrowing it. But I suppose when he croaks it'll be mine."

"Huh," is the best I can do for a response to that.

I can see a pool behind the house, God knows what else is back there. The room we're in now appears to be a study with a whole wall lined with bookshelves, which are filled with books. Everything in the room is either made of red oak or is framed in red oak. The bookcase, the fireplace, the lamps, the fucking couch legs, the coffee table, the goddamn coasters. Someone was smoking red oak when they furnished this room!

Edward is being very quiet while I survey my surroundings, which oddly draws my attention to him. He appears to be deeply engrossed in the ginormous book in his lap.

"I thought you were getting trashed tonight," I accuse.

Edward doesn't look up from his book as he grabs his bottle of imported beer off of his red oak coaster. He waves it in my direction, as if to answer my question, then takes a swig. I want to ask him why his glasses aren't framed out of red oak, but I figure that will probably just piss him off.

"This is why I told you to bring your sketchbook," he mumbles, flipping a page.

"Oh, and here I thought you were interested in seeing my work," I mutter back, disgruntled that I actually thought he'd give a shit.

"I am," he says, "but not right this second. Here. See what you can do with this."

I grab the sheet of paper from his hand and on it is a lion or dragon or some shit, and a hand, and some design thing along the bottom with the name 'Cullen', then there are some hand written notes.

 _Make it less girly. More contemporary, not so medieval. If possible, get rid of the ribbon banner on the bottom and incorporate the name with the actual piece._

I had to assume it was Edward's hand writing. I also had to assume that this was what the whole tattoo artist conversation-slash-fight we'd had was about. This was the favor he never asked for, his compliment. He wanted me to design his tattoo.

 _Oh, swoon._

–

We spent hours there, not even speaking. Edward would sigh every once in a while and I would look up to see him rolling his neck out and massaging his temples, or clenching his jaw and rubbing his eyes under his glasses. He would silently get up and fetch us new drinks.

I didn't drink much, I was literally throwing everything I had into the design he wanted. It wasn't what I'd expected to do while I was here with Edward, but it was fun nonetheless. The design was different than what I was used to drawing and it was challenging, but I enjoyed it.

Edward's book hits the floor with a startling thud. "Fuck this. Give it to me," he says, eying my sketchpad.

I feel my eyebrows pull together as I possessively pull my book closer to my body. "It's not finished yet," I reply defensively. "You can't see it 'til it's finished."

"Don't care, just need to see something that isn't another fucking explanation of applicable versus inapplicable evidence. Give it."

"Fine," I acquiesce, "but I'm sitting next to you and you have to stop when I say stop."

"Christ," he mutters, rubbing at his jaw, "you sound like my first girlfriend." I glare at him and he rolls his eyes at me. "Fine, come here."

Gingerly, I stand and walk over to him, taking the seat immediately to his left. He reaches for the sketchbook, brushing my thigh with his hand on accident when he takes hold of it. This causes me to inhale, which then leads to me breathing him in. I can smell the beer on him, which is frankly repulsive, but past that is a hint of chlorine and sun, which makes me believe he was in the pool at some point today. There is a lingering trace of his cologne, and then there is just him. He smells like man and I want to shove my nose into his neck and just inhale and lick, and repeat.

"What the fuck is this?" he asks, drawing me back to the here and now.

I look down and see him twirling my sketchbook this way and that, staring down at an abstract piece I'd penciled a couple of weeks ago.

"I was bored," I say with a shrug.

"You artistic fucks are weird," he mutters, flipping the page. Of course, this causes me to bristle. I move to reach for my book, but he blocks my move. "Calm down, I didn't mean it in a bad way. You artistic fucks are also apparently really oversensitive," he says, looking me dead in the eye.

Seeing as we're sitting right next to each other on the couch, and he's looking at me and I'm looking at him, we're kind of in each other's face, which just tempts me to kiss him. He's right there, and I want to, so badly, but I know better.

I hope I know better.

I apparently don't know better because I start leaning into him.

Thank God, he doesn't notice because crazy bitch Jessica has epically good, or bad, timing.

"Where my money, asshole?" she demands.

Edward groans and shoves my book into my lap. "I'll be right back," he tells me then leaves the room with a heated glare at Jessica.

She gives me the stink eye.

Being alone, or mostly alone, I'm able to collect my thoughts and ask myself what the hell I am thinking. That's exactly the problem though, I'm not thinking, I'm just reacting. He makes me hot and drives me crazy and pisses me off, and I don't know how to think around him. But I have to get my shit together. I have to go slow with him.

"He worth it, you know," Jessica whispers from across the room. I completely forgot she was even there.

"Excuse me?" I ask, looking up at her.

She looks just as pissed off as ever, though her voice is much softer now. "Edwardo, he worth it. He very, how you say, rude, but he worth it. He like you, maybe not same way, but he never bring anyone home, so he like you."

"Um, thanks," I offer.

"Puta," she growls, then snaps her arm out and grabs the cash from Edward's hand before he is even around the fucking corner.

 _Crazy, ninja Jedi, mindfucking woman_. But as crazy as she was, she gave me something to think about.

Did Edward really never bring anyone home? Really, never?

Sure, he could be abrasive, but besides that, he was the perfect catch. Rich, successful, extremely good looking, undoubtedly well-hung...

Whatever the reason, I was glad he was unattached, but I wanted to get the bottom of this.

"Another beer?" he asks, holding out a fresh bottle to me.

"No, thanks. Hey Edward, I have a question."

"What?" he inquires, dropping back down beside me, stretching his legs out on the coffee table and his arms back onto the back of the couch.

"Who's your daddy?"

He visibly stiffens. Despite my attempt at being nonchalant, it still is apparently a touchy subject. He withdraws his arms from the back of the couch. One hand automatically goes to his hair, twisting and pulling on it, while the other reaches for his beer, which he downs in just a few gulps.

"My dad is Ed Cullen Senior, why the hell else do you suppose I'd get stuck with this ridiculous family name?" I know the question is defensive and rhetorical, so I wait for him to continue. I can tell he is forcing himself to be calm, but I don't regret asking the question of him. "My mom is Elizabeth Masen, former personal maid to Irina Cullen, Ed's wife. Which makes me Edward Cullen Junior, the bastard son of a maid and a billionaire lawyer, and a fuck up extraordinaire."

"It's pretty common knowledge by now," he continues. "Ed tried to pay off my mom for a while, but as I got older, it apparently became harder to hide. I obviously look a shitload like my mom, but I guess people started seeing a resemblance, not to mention the fact that my mom is vengeful and named me after the fucker. Carlisle, my brother who is old enough to be my father, is Ed's only son because Irina has trouble carrying to term. So yeah, once he couldn't keep it a secret anymore, daddy dearest embraced me like some fucking miracle."

"Whatever, I shouldn't exactly bitch since I'm living the fucking  _dream_ now." He grabs the beer I declined and cracks that one open, draining it too quickly for my liking.

I feel bad, but I try not to pity him. It's a truly fucked up situation, there is no denying that. Edward obviously loathes his father, and I don't blame him.

"So, did you want to be a lawyer?" I ask hesitantly. Somehow I doubt he did.

He turns to look at me, which is unnerving, because I can't trust myself to look back at him again.

"You know, no motherfucker has ever asked me that before. In the beginning, I was completely against it, but mostly because I didn't have a choice. Ed basically just said, 'You're enrolled, don't fuck up.' What the fuck was I supposed to do? I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but he was putting me through college and he bought me the Aston. I could have anything I wanted, so I went with it."

"What about now?" I press.

"Now? I don't know. It's hard, it's not what I really wanted, but it's better than nothing, I guess."

"You don't sound very happy," I hedge.

His defensiveness immediately comes back. "What are you, my fucking shrink?"

I sigh and stand up. "No, I thought you wanted to talk but whatever, no one is forcing you. Are you going to give me the tour of this mansion, otherwise I'm leaving?"

"Christ, you're a nosy bastard," he mumbles, then heaves himself up off the couch. I watch closely as he totters a few steps. "Shit," he mutters as he steadies himself. "How many fucking beers did I drink?"

"I don't honestly know, Edward, but in the last twenty minutes you've chugged two, so at least three in the last hour."

"Oh," he says, then nods and loses his balance.

I grab his arm and shake my head. "Where is your bedroom? You need to lay the fuck down. I'll let myself out."

"Bathroom," he gasps, then throws his hand over his mouth.

"Fuck," I hiss, trying to guide him while he leads the way, since I have no idea where the fuck the bathroom is.

We manage to make it to the bathroom okay, but once I see it, I think  _I_ may throw up. It's all white, from floors to ceiling. Whoever built this house had some serious compulsion issues.

"Just look around, I don't give a shit," he wheezes, then slams the door in my face.

I had one of two options. I could either hover around the door and listen to Edward ralph, or I could do as he invited me to and take a look around.

By the time I hear him have his first go at it, I make my decision. I go for the stairs first. Up one flight, and then another.

The third floor consists of one wide, bare open room. One whole wall is made up of windows, they face the south and overlook some of the best Seattle scenery I've ever seen. Scenery I've never seen before, I never even knew it existed. But the window wall only holds my attention for so long. There are many much more personal affects littered around the room, and he was right, I am snoopy.

There is a lounge area, mainly made up of blankets and pillows, no mattress or anything, just blankets on the floor. Tossed here and there are several well loved books and I pick up each one, checking the titles. There is music paper everywhere. Blanks sheets, sheets with a few lines of notes, and pages upon pages of scattered notes. Which leads me to the piano.

It starts to bother me that I'm alone up here with all of his things. It appears that this is  _his_ space and I feel bad for invading it, so I descend the stairs. I quickly give myself a preview of the second level and smirk when I find his bedroom. I don't go inside, I want to save that for another time, perhaps when things are more intimate between us. I do give it a once over from the door though.

His bed is donning black linens and looks severely unkempt and from what I can see of his closet, it looks much the same. There appears to be several black items in there and clothes scattered all over the floor. There are CDs cases randomly sitting open around the room and a decent sound system in the corner.

I flip the light back off and move on, slowly making my way down stairs and finishing my tour. Everything on the lowest level is perfectly in order, including the kitchen, which looks untouched. The house is more extravagant than I imagined, complete with a theater and an office fit for a fucking tech geek. I exit the back of the house and snort at what the backyard holds.

There is a swimming pool, a spa, and a fucking waterslide, as well as a pool house that I don't even bother going into. There is probably a full screen TV in there and surround sound.

I kick off my socks and roll up my pants, taking a seat on the edge of the pool and shoving my feet into the water.

A sigh escapes my parted lips and I'm tempted to strip and jump in, Edward be damned. He'll probably be in the can the rest of the evening anyway.

"The waterslide was my touch," he says gruffly, making me jump. I hadn't even heard him come out. He groans as he slides down into a lounge chair and his face pinches up in a grimace.

"Feeling okay?" I ask quietly, swirling my feet in the warm water.

"Not so much. You'd think by now I'd learn not to drink so much of that shit on an empty stomach."

"You should go eat something so you don't get alcohol poisoning," I say halfheartedly.

As I expected, he just laughs at me, though it's quiet and more of a groan.

I give up and stand. "Would you kill me if I jumped in your pool butt ass naked?" I ask him. The water is just too fucking tempting, I want in.

"Not right now, no, but I'll kick your ass tomorrow if you do it."

"Awesome," I reply with a grin, though he can't see me because his eyes are closed. I know that is about as golden as a 'yes', coming from his lips.

I'm not too terribly shy and chances are, he won't really be looking anyway, plus it's kind of dark out, so I just strip it all off right there on the patio.

"Don't piss in my pool or I will fucking kill you," he mutters.

"No promises," I reply jokingly.

I jump into the pool and sigh to myself as the water envelopes me. I just swim for a while, enjoying the feel of the warmth. Swimming naked is so much better than anything else, the water cupping your genitals feels so much nicer than those meshy things they put in swim trunks. From the distant end of the pool, Edward's voice carries to me. I swim across the pool to him and ask him to repeat himself.

"Would you mind coming back tomorrow to swim? I feel like shit and I want to go to sleep."

"Are you going to make me wear trunks tomorrow?"

I swear I can see his eyes roll from behind his eyelids. "If you don't bring trunks, you aren't getting back in my pool."

I sigh and mutter, "Fine."

I don't bother with the ladder or stairs, instead I lift myself over the edge right where I am in front of Edward. I'm surprised to find he is actually looking at me when I look up, and I flush. He doesn't really seem interested, but he's looking no less and it makes me little hot. I have to cup my sergeant and generals in my hand to hide the fact that he is making me hard with his stare alone.

"Towel?" I ask smoothly.

"Pool house," he replies, casually closing his eyes and leaning his head back into the lounge.

I grab my discarded clothing off the patio and escape into the pool house, which I find does in fact have a big fucking TV in it. Edward's pool house has better furnishings than my house does. I find the towels and dry off quickly, leaving the towel in a hamper next to the sink.

After redressing, I find Edward looking rather queasy. For Edward's sake, I don't stick around and I let him know I'm going to text him in the morning to make sure he's alright. He tries to make fun of me for being a girl, but it comes off rather weak and pitiful.

I can't keep him off of my mind for a second as I drive home.

–

The weeks pass quickly, the days all melding together as Edward stars in more and more of them. I find myself at his house often, either swimming or just hanging out with him. Despite how he comes across at first, he's extremely easy going. I like him, a lot. Every second I spend with him isn't about the end result anymore, which concerns me in a way, but I brush it off.

Seeing Edward in only swim trunks for the first time was a world shaking experience in itself. The glimpses over time left so much to the imagination. He was ripped and just fucking beautiful. He made life increasingly difficult as time went on.

His shirt was off so often around me, you'd think I'd just get used to it, but I didn't. After I finished drawing what I considered to be a rather masterful rendition of his proposed tattoo, I forced myself to get the guts to show it to him. It took me about a week to finally unveil it. I had no cause for concern. The fucking second he saw it, he practically begged me to go with him to get inked.

He needn't have begged, I was all too willing to see my art on him. And he got it, right on his fucking shoulder. I had to take a bathroom break halfway through watching him get marked to relieve some, uh, stress. Instead of swimming, since he couldn't get the new ink wet, he opted to sit in the spa while I swam around his pool.

We rarely frequented Rogue's at all anymore, but every time we did, I would dread seeing Emmett there. I'd been avoiding his texts and calls even more than usual and I figured he would eventually be busting into my life to crash the party. But he stayed away. Once he came over and said 'hi' to Edward and myself, but other than that, he would either leave us alone or not be at the bar at all. I had no idea what to make of it.

The plan was right on track. Everything was sailing smoothly. Edward and I hung out almost daily and we officially had a friendship that seemed well forged, even if my end of the deal wasn't completely honest.

Everything was going just perfectly, slowly, but perfectly.

Until the shit hit the fan.

The mess it made seemed more than I could clean up.


	3. Chapter 3

The night seemed to start off as usual. Edward texted me, telling me he wanted to meet at Rogue's. I went and waited for him to show, a seat and cold bottle of beer ready for him. The minute he walked through the doors though, I knew something wasn't right.

As the weeks had come and gone, Edward had opened up to me more and more. He wasn't so quiet and generally the conversation between us was steady, unless he was in a bad mood. I could tell right away if he was in a bad mood, because he was always quiet.

When he showed up and took his seat without so much as a 'hey', I knew he was in a shitty mood. The thing with Edward was that you couldn't even ask him if he was okay without him blowing a damn gasket. If he was pissy, you just left him the fuck alone and he'd either open up about it or shove it aside.

I offered him exactly what he gave to me, nothing. I sat there, pretending to watch the band, while I waited for him to come the fuck out with it or get the fuck over it or whatever he needed to do. But after silently sitting for a whole goddamn two hours, I was starting to get impatient. He was downing alcohol with a vengeance, something was obviously wrong, and I didn't have all fucking night.

"Did something happen?" I asked cautiously.

"Nope," is all he said before ordering yet another drink.

"Then what the fuck is your problem?" I challenged with annoyance.

"You," he growled, slamming his empty beer bottle down on the table. "You are my fucking problem, Jasper."

"Me?" I asked, taken aback. It was admittedly the last thing I expected him to say. But he affirmed that I was indeed his problem. "Why?"

"A guy approached me today, demanding to know if I was your latest fuck." I immediately felt all of the color leaving my face as the realization hit me. "Imagine my surprise. Here I thought you wanted to be my friend, but then James Hunter introduced himself and he made it perfectly clear what your fucking plan is." He laughs humorlessly before continuing. " _I_ am your  _fucking_  plan."

I didn't respond. I didn't know how to, other than I wanted to kill James fucking Hunter. All along I was worried about Emmett ruining my shot with Edward, but psycho James struck again, completely fucking me over. He so wasn't worth the time I put into him. Couldn't he be happy with one great fuck and a new way of life? Did he really have to keep fucking things up for me?

"Nothing to say for yourself, Jasper?" Edward asked. Again, I didn't respond, because I honestly didn't have anything to say for myself. I couldn't deny it and I wouldn't defend myself. "So it is true?"

"Which part?" I mumbled.

"Which part?" he asked back a bit hysterically. "Fuck, Jasper, you seduce straight men? That's what gets you off?"

"Yes," I admitted, and I wasn't going to be ashamed either.

"God," he groaned, shoving a hand into his hair. "I don't want to know anymore, don't fucking tell me. Just consider this the last fucking time you'll ever see me. I can't believe I... Can't trust anyone," he mumbled, aggressively grabbing the beer away from the serving waitress.

I expected him to tell me to leave, but he didn't, nor did he make a move to leave himself. I didn't really want to stay, because I could practically feel his anger and irritation rolling off of him, but despite the fact that I didn't want to give a shit, I did. He was scaring me with how heavily he was drinking, and I did fucking care about him. I cared too fucking much, too much to let him hurt himself if he tried to.

"So what, you seriously thought I was going to let you fuck me?" he asked unexpectedly.

"Thought you didn't want to know," I replied.

"I don't," he said, "but I just don't fucking understand how you could be so stupid. How I could be so stupid."

I rolled my eyes at him and took a slow drink to calm myself down, but it didn't work. "Just so you know, Edward, if James wouldn't have fucked it up, you would have let me, just like he did, and the others before him."

"Fuck you," he snapped. "You're a fucking disgrace."

"Aren't you projecting a little bit there, Edward? Isn't that what you think you are, the disgrace? Isn't that what daddy called you? Feeling a little disgraceful now yourself? Are you so fucking close-minded that you can't accept the fact that you have feelings for me, too?"

"I don't feel shit for you," he barked back.

I laughed bitterly at him. "You can lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me."

The silence that hung there was heavy, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Edward didn't say anything else, and I could tell he was really starting to get sick, but he continued to nurse his bottle anyway.

I almost wanted to laugh at him when he finally jumped up to rush to the bathroom, but I was too busy feeling like shit about the whole damn situation. While he was vomiting, I was trying to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do now.

It wasn't supposed to end like that, both of us angry and unsatisfied. The friendship had come to be more than worth it and I couldn't regret it, even if it did end without reaching the goal I'd set. But fuck, I didn't want it to end, because I already knew I'd miss him. He somehow managed to be more than just a potential fuck. He was Peter all over again, without the revelation. Or what if Edward was a whole new revelation? Maybe it was a good thing I wouldn't have the chance to find out.

About fifteen minutes had passed before I went looking for Edward. I hadn't seen him leave, nor come out of the bathroom, which was frankly only giving me more shit to worry about. If he was seriously sick, then I would be the friend that he'd had before and make sure his drunk ass got home safe. If he was just avoiding me, then fuck him, he could take care of himself.

I found him before I made it near the men's room though. He was positioned in a dark corner with some skinny blonde chick. Even to me it looked like it wasn't going well, but of course I was still jealous. He seriously didn't look like he was being very friendly though.

I couldn't stop myself from taking a closer look. When I realized he had the poor girl's hands pinned to the wall, I intervened.

"Edward, you need to back off," I said calmly.

"Fuck off, ass pirate," he replied.

The girl's eyes were wide with fear and she started to struggle, but he barely seemed to notice. "You're drunk, you need to stop and fucking think for a second, dude," I tried, grabbing one of his wrists to make sure he didn't do anything stupider.

"Get your fucking hands off of me," he hissed at me. He released one of the girl's arms as he tried to shake me off.

"I'll let you go as soon as you let this girl go."

"Fuck off, I don't want you, chicks love me."

"Ow," the girl whined, opening her mouth for the first time. I could see his hold on her tightening and I shook my head at him.

Wordlessly, I grabbed his other wrist and yanked his hand off of her. "I'm sure they do, but this one doesn't want you forcing yourself on her, so back the fuck up."

The girl quickly darted out from beneath Edward's hold and made a run back to her table, where she started gesturing wildly to some guy, pointing at us.

"Oh, fuck," I groaned. "Your ass is fucked now."

Edward gave me a really dirty look for my poor wording, but then started hissing expletives when he noticed the big bastard making his way over with a murderous glare.

"Shit, shit, shit," he chanted. "Fuck," he practically whimpered, and I decided right then and there that my Edward was nothing but a brave little coward who totally wrote checks with his big mouth that his skinny ass couldn't cash. I wasn't taking the beating for his stupid, drunk ass, but I would do what I could to save him.

"Oh, God, what am I thinking," he whined, then he grabbed my hand and pulled me really close. "This doesn't mean shit, I just can't go to work tomorrow if I look like I got my ass kicked."

"What the—"

Before I could even say 'fuck' his mouth covered mine and I moaned.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

He's all tight-mouthed, barely kissing me, acting like it's absolutely the worst thing in the world, which meant it was all for show for the motherfucker who wanted to kick his ass back to last weekend, but I didn't care.

I slid my hands up into his hair and moaned his name against his lips, like, really loudly. I smirked when he twitched—I didn't even care if it was a good twitch or a bad twitch. I grabbed his hair between my fingers and pulled his head down slightly so I could get a better angle, and shoved my mouth harder against his. I pressed my hips forward and ground against him. I laughed as a deep growl rumbled in his chest.

To the outside world we probably just looked like some gay couple mouthfucking and humping each other against a wall, but I knew that Edward was going to fucking kill me for it later. It wasn't usually my style, but if we were done seeing each other, I was going to go out with a fucking bang. At least I'd know he would think of me, if only because I was the only man he ever kissed. It felt really fucking good for me, and if I could manipulate our current situation into my favor, you're damn right I was going to.

Edward started to pull away and I let him, though he really had no where to go, since he was all up against the wall, but I wasn't going to force him.

"They're faking!" I heard a high-pitched voice shriek.

"Fuck," Edward hissed again, then his hands were on my ass and he started groping the fuck out of me.

I shook my head and went with it, and did that naughtiest thing I could do in public without getting arrested. I reached between the two of us and started rubbing him through his jeans. I tried to hide a smirk as I realized that he was as big as I'd hoped, but I think Edward caught it.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he gasped, his voice shooting up an octave.

I could hear the big fuck approaching from somewhere behind us and I leaned into Edward's ear to whisper, "If you don't want to get your balls ripped off for touching this fucker's girlfriend, you better act a little bit better."

I then took my time kissing down the side of his neck, savoring the fact that this could possibly be my only chance. I darted my tongue out to taste him and inhaled the scent of his skin because I was frankly too fucking stupid and curious to realize it was only going to make me want him more. I stopped to suck at his pulse point lightly and felt him shift against me as he gave my ass a squeeze. I licked over to his Adam's apple and sucked, reaching just a bit lower to squeeze him in return. He was definitely getting hard, whether he wanted to or not.

His hands stayed awkwardly still on my ass while his head pushed back against the wall. "Fuck me," he groaned, then froze.

I chuckled and shook my head, mumbling, "Relax," into his neck. "Move your hands," I instructed.

"Where?" he whispered.

I laughed at him again. "I don't care, just move them."

He surprised me when he pushed them under the back of my shirt. His nails dug in lightly as he scratched up to my shoulder and back down again and my hips jerked forward on their own accord, meeting just my hand that was still rubbing his cock through his jeans.

"My girlfriend says you were grabbing her," the big fuck behind us said, sounding rather embarrassed.

"What?" I asked him, my lips still working over Edward's neck.

"My girl, she says you guys are faking, one of you grabbed her."

Edward felt pretty hard against my hand, so I changed the position of my hand, aiming to hit the top of his cock to hopefully get him to make a little noise for me. I rubbed along the underside of his cock through his jeans, right up to the head of his cock, and bit down lightly on his neck.

He moaned and his nails dug into my back. I looked up to his face to see his eyes closed and his jaw clenched.

"Fuck, would you stop for two seconds?" the dude behind us muttered uncomfortably.

I removed my mouth from Edward's neck and my hands from his cock and pivoted toward the fuck, who I was actually very fond of for getting Edward to drunkenly attack me.

 _God, that sounds pathetic._

"Listen, I don't know what your little girlfriend's problem is, but I'm assuming she probably threw herself at my boyfriend and he turned her down, now she's pissed off."

The guy looked downright humiliated, but after he glanced over his shoulder, presumably at said girlfriend, he didn't relent.

"She said one of you grabbed her." He tried to look everywhere but at us, as Edward's hands surprisingly stayed in my shirt even after I pivoted and he started to toy with my happy trail, which seriously started to make me a little incoherent with lust.

"Yeah, you already said that. Look, honestly, sweetie, no offense or anything, but my boyfriend isn't going to go around grabbing random chicks. He knows I'm the best lay here, not to mention that I give better head than any girl you'll ever meet and I actually enjoy it."

The guy turned on his heel after that and didn't look back, even when his girlfriend started bitching. I really kind of felt bad about the fact that Edward grabbed her and normally, I would let the guy kick his ass for it, but I knew Edward, and he wasn't the type to hurt a woman. He was drunk and confused, and it was my fault.

"I'm gonna throw up," Edward muttered, withdrawing his hands from my shirt.

I rolled my eyes and turned around, assuming he was being theatrical about the predicament, but he looked really ill, and on the verge of up-chucking—not at all in a joking type of way. "Can you make it outside?" I asked him.

"Fuck," he groaned, then grabbed my hand and started jogging, pulling me with him.

He shoved the back doors open and barely made it around the corner before he was blowing chunks all over the fucking sidewalk.

"Jesus. You're fucking hot and all, but even if that big motherfucker comes back for an encore performance from us, I am  _not_ kissing you again after that," I said, mostly to distract myself from the god-awful sound of him puking on the cement. "He can kick your ass all he wants. Oh, fuck, that smells bad." I started to walk away as he started all over again.

The night was just completely fucked. I had no idea what the fuck was going to happen. Considering he was drunk, it could turn out a lot of ways, though I knew I couldn't just go back to him not knowing about me. I wouldn't be able to pretend he didn't know, if he did forget. There was no way in hell I was going to be able to push the night's events from my mind like they never happened, especially after I felt his cock and his mouth on mine and his nails digging into my back. I could still taste him on my tongue. I couldn't just forget about that.

After I realized that the sound of his retching had died off, I chanced a look back over my shoulder, to see that he was crumpled down against the side of the building. I walked back to him and held my hand out, to which he responded by shoving his keys into my open palm.

Wordlessly, I left to bring his car around and he clambered his way into the passenger side. Once inside, he turned the music off and the air on high, even though it wasn't really hot out. The air just made the smell of stale beer and vomit circulate around the car faster, but I didn't say anything as I drove out of the parking lot.

Halfway to his house I changed my mind and started driving to my own. I couldn't leave him at home alone in his condition. Just as we were passing the turn off to his house, he leaned forward and started moaning.

"Don't you fucking puke in the car," I warned.

"Pull over," he groaned, but it was already too fucking late.

I couldn't move the fucking car over fast enough with the other traffic in my way and he gave me no fucking warning at all. The bastard even managed to get some fucking puke on me.

I rolled down all the windows after that and Edward seemed to pass out against the seat.

 _Fuck my life_.

–

I didn't bother trying to clean up his car, I just dragged his sorry ass inside, stripped him of his vomit covered clothing and cleaned him up as best as I could before throwing him into my bed.

I barely managed to get the clothing into the washer without gagging myself.

It was one of those moments when I was really fucking ecstatic that I was a gay man with no desire for a family at all, because I could never do that shit for a child.

By the time I was able to shower and get ready for bed, I was dead on my fucking feet. And I couldn't even sleep in my own fucking bed.

I had to sleep on the motherfucking sofa.

For a man who didn't put out.

Christ.

–

A succession of bangs roused me from a deep, well-earned sleep. I open my eyes to find a dark, very attractive-looking man looming over me.

"Don't even fucking start," I grumbled, tossing my arm over my eyes to block out the light.

"I have a fucking hickey. I'm mostly fucking naked. I can't find my clothes. I very vividly remember finding out some seriously disturbing shit about you yesterday. And I woke up in your bed, with the hangover of a lifetime. I don't remember a fucking thing that happened after I met you to talk at Rogue's last night."

His voice got increasingly louder as he went on and I wanted to tell him to just shut the fuck up, but I didn't have the energy.

"You stink," I realized, shoving him away.

He grabbed my arm and pulled, yanking me right off the fucking couch. I quickly started to lose what little patience I had.

"What the fuck did you give me?" he yelled.

I snapped. I just fucking snapped, I lost it.

When my eyes opened, he was standing over me and I grabbed his leg, knocking him to the ground. I quickly pinned him there and glared down at him.

"What the fuck did I give you? Are you fucking kidding me?" I hollered, as he struggled to get away from me.

"Get off of me, you fucking rapist faggot."

"Hey, you stupid fucker, look at me," I growled. When he didn't listen, I held him down tighter, but he still refused to meet my eyes. I was so fucking upset I didn't even consider the fact that we were rolling around in nothing but our underwear. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You fucking know me! Just because one thing changed, it doesn't mean that I'm some terrible fucking monster. Yes, I am gay. Yes, I do want to fuck you, but I'm not going to fucking rape you. Jesus Christ. How can you even fucking think that of me?"

"Because you're a lying piece of shit. You put the fucking hickey on my neck, who the fuck knows what else you did to me last night. You're a sick fucking freak."

"Fuck you," I said, letting him go and standing up. "Your clothes are in the fucking dryer." I grabbed his keys and chuckled them at him, satisfied when he winced as they connected with his chest. "There are your fucking keys. You're welcome for washing your clothes, and you're welcome for saving you from getting your ass kicked, and you're fucking welcome for being a friend and making sure you didn't end up as road kill. Good luck getting your fucking puke out of your car's upholstery. I hope you have a nice goddamn life, you fucking prick."

I finished by slamming the door in his face after throwing his dried laundry at him while he stood on my patio in his underwear.

After a few minutes, he finally made it out to his car dressed. I watched as he opened the driver's side door. I'm sure the smell was atrocious because he immediately took a step back. Then he looked inside.

He raised his hands up and threw them down onto the hood of his car, hard. Three times he pounded onto the top of his car. Once it seemed he was satisfied with doing that, he grabbed his hair and leaned his head down to rest it against the car. At last, he jumped into the driver's seat and sped away, squealing out of my driveway like a man on the run.

–

It has been three weeks since I've seen Edward. Three weeks that I have been going absolutely crazy thinking about Edward. It's been three weeks without any contact at all. After three weeks of nothing, I think it's absolutely certain that we are over.

I sent him one text—one stupid, misguided text—asking him if we could talk. He didn't respond, so I decided to leave him alone.

I figure there is no chance at all of salvaging our friendship—and an even impossibly smaller chance of furthering our relationship.

What bothers me the most is that I want to. I still want him. I want him back. I just can't get him out of my head, and I can't fucking stand it. After what he fucking said to me, I should hate him and I know it, but it doesn't matter, because I miss him. I dream about kissing the tattoo that I drew on his shoulder, when I can get sleep that is. It's really fucking disturbing.

No one has ever been able to get to me the way Edward can. I just want to forget him, but at the same time, I never want to forget. I'm pretty sure that I'm going insane.

Just a couple days ago, I thought I could find someone else. I'd had to give up before, many times, and it never bothered me. But after the brutal attempt of trying to move on, I decided that I was just stuck this way forever.

I didn't go back to Rogue's, for obvious reasons. I tried a bar I'd never been to, one that I thought would be well-suited to me, but I was completely wrong. A fucking sports bar was not the place for me. The guys in there were fucking obnoxious and half retarded, and the waitresses were slutty and also half retarded.

I was never going back.

But not because of the shitty crowd. No, the entire time I was there, I fucking moped, like a girl—he really had me pegged. I wanted Edward and I couldn't stop thinking about him long enough to even notice anyone else. As soon as I would try, I would think about how perfect he was and how no one else would ever be able to live up to his standard.

It was a bunch of fucking bullshit, and I literally just gave up.

I said fuck it.

That is why for the past few days I haven't even left home. I just sit there in my bed, imagining him beside me, like a complete fucking lunatic. It's so fucking gay that I want to kick my own ass. But it doesn't stop me from doing it. I draw him endlessly, so I won't forget him, while at the same time I'm hoping that if I put my memories down on paper enough, they won't be stuck in my head anymore.

His fucking smile haunts me.

Which is why I decide to grab my cell and make a phone call.

I pause on Edward's name and with a deep breath, I press down one more time before hitting send.

"Hey baby," answers the deep voice I don't really want to hear, but I settle for it anyway.

"Will you come over?" I ask.

I hear something fall and try not to laugh when Emmett asks me, "Can you fucking repeat that for me? I think I just fucking heard you ask me to come over."

It's the exact reason I called him. He's an idiot and probably the only person who is going to understand what I'm dealing with right now, and he somehow manages to make me laugh. "You heard me, get your dumb ass over here now."

I hang up and bite my lip to keep it from trembling. I feel guilty for some reason and I don't want to, I don't even know why I feel guilty or why I should. God, I fucking hate this.

Emmett shows up fairly quickly and I go out onto the porch to meet him. I laugh when I see he's just showered and that he's wearing a button down and some just-tight-enough jeans. Then I bite my lip because it starts trembling again and I can feel stupid, unwanted fucking tears in my eyes.

"Ah, shit," Emmett groans. "I shouldn't have wore the good shirt if you're just going to cry all over it. I'll take a come stain over tears any day."

"Shut up," I whine.

"You fucking fell for him, didn't you?" Emmett asks quietly.

I know I'm nodding before I even consciously tell myself to and my stupid bottom lip juts out into a pout while a hot tear burns down my cheek. I scrub it away anxiously and try to think of something to say to change the subject, but I can't.

"I'm sorry," Emmett says.

I clench my fists in a poor attempt to control my stupid feelings, but it unsurprisingly doesn't work. My mouth still works though. "I want the pictures," I demand. "I want them, I don't care what you want in return, I'll give you anything. Just give me the pictures and delete them off of your phone."

"Fuck, Jasper," he sighs. And I wheeze in a breath, because I think he's going to tell me 'no'. I wouldn't blame him, if the pictures were mine, I wouldn't give them up for anything, but then again, they would mean a whole lot more to mean than just 'spank bank material'. "Do you love him?" Emmett asks me.

"N-no," I stutter quickly, but I'm really not so sure. I don't think I want to love him, but I'm afraid that I do, which is really fucked up.

"Come here," Emmett whispers and puts his big, oafish arms around my shoulders.

He's hugging me and I don't really care that he is, it's kind of nice. But I don't hug him back, I just stand there with my face shoved against his wide chest, trying not to cry like a complete fuck over someone who obviously doesn't give a shit about me.

"How do you do it?" I ask, and it almost sounds like I'm sobbing, but I'm not. I'm not fucking crying over Edward.

"Do what?" he replies, as he rubs my back soothingly.

"How can you handle being obsessed with me?"

I want to die when he laughs at me. He doesn't let me go when I start to struggle, and he apologizes through his laughter, but it loses its affect, since he's still fucking laughing. God, I fucking hate him.

"I'm sorry," he continues to wheeze out. "I'm really sorry, Jasper. I don't mean to shatter your poor fragile little ego right now, but I'm not obsessed with you."

"Yes, you are," I insist.

He just laughs some more and I sob extra hard just to make him feel bad. "Shit, I'm sorry," he says desperately and starts to pet at my hair. "I am, you're right, I'm so obsessed. I even want to do you right now."

I know he's joking so I just roll my eyes, but that reminds me of Edward, which actually does make me sob, since I picked up the annoying habit from him.

"We should sit down," he continues. "Let me explain to you how I feel, okay?"

"Fine," I mutter, pulling away from him and sitting down on the hard concrete.

He sits down beside me and grabs my hand to toy with it while he talks. "Jasper, I do have feelings for you, and I have for a long time, but if I were obsessed with you, I wouldn't be getting any tail. Do you seriously think I've went all these years without having a boyfriend?"

I glance up at him and find him staring seriously down at me. "No," I admit. "I know you're not ' _obsessed_ ' but you know what I mean. Doesn't it bother you that I don't feel the same way for you as you do for me?"

"No," he answers honestly, "but I thought of all people that  _you_  would understand that. This is what you  _do_ , Jasper. You chase after the ones who don't feel the same way, and you love it. But I think this time you got in too deep. This time you care whether he wants you back or not. For me, you were the fuck first, like all those other guys were to you, but you became my friend, so I didn't really care that you weren't interested. But you have the feelings for Edward now, and you aren't used to that. This is what a  _real_ relationship is like, Jasper."

He sighs when I don't respond. "You're my challenge, my unattainable, you know. It's a game to me. You remember last year when that fucking chick got all up in my face and told me that I couldn't really be gay if I didn't know what pussy was like?" I nod, because I do remember that. "Well, I never told you this, but I fucked her because she told me I wouldn't. When someone challenges me, I don't fucking back down, Jazz. So maybe that does make me obsessed with you, but you're also one of the best friends I've ever had, I'm not going to give that up just because you won't let me in your pants. I'm also not going to give up on sleeping with you either."

It's ridiculous that is takes Emmett to put things into proportion for me. He really has a bigger brain than I give him credit for.

I have feelings for Edward, big feelings. Big feelings that actually take place inside of my big head rather than the little head that I'm used to thinking with. Okay. But now how the hell do I get over said feelings since there is no way in hell Edward is ever going to give me a chance again?

"How do I forget about him?" I ask Emmett.

He simply gives me a condescending smile. "Jasper, haven't you ever been in love before?"

Peter is about the only person that comes to mind, but I already know that wasn't love. I was in lust with Peter, and in love with the  _idea_ of him, but I wasn't  _in love_  with him. The only other person I can think of is Alec, my first boyfriend, who was much older and much more experienced that me. I don't think that I loved him though either. I never felt for anyone the way I feel for Edward.

It isn't just the physical aspect, though I am in love with his body and the thought of consuming him, but there is a whole other level to it. I'm in love with the fact that he is imperfectly perfect, I love his sometimes shitty attitude and the way he pushes my buttons. I love the fucking smirk he gets on his face when he's feeling cocky and the way he practically tears his hair out when he's anxious. I fucking love everything about him. I know that I love him, I just don't want to admit it. I know that he is possibly my first real love, and I'm scared to death of that fact.

"I don't know," I tell Emmett, and it's not really a lie. I admittedly don't know if I really know what love is. I don't know  _how_ to be in love with someone.

"Well, shit," he mumbles, dropping my hand into his lap. "Then I guess I'm going to have the break the bad news to you, sweetie. You're not going to forget about him, and I can tell by the way you look right now that you don't really want to."

I sigh and close my eyes. I give Emmett's leg a squeeze because he's kind of been helpful and he'll probably like it, then I lean back against my house and try to decide what I'm going to do.

I know what I need to do right now, even if I don't have a clue what I'm going to about this 'feelings' shit. "Emmett, tell me what the fuck you want so I can have my pictures."

"Son of a bitch," he whispers to himself. "Come on, Jasper, can't we just forget about the pictures? Besides, those aren't going to help you forget about him at all."

I cock an eyebrow in his direction and give him the fiercest look I can with one eye. "I want my pictures," I insist.

He groans and whines and makes a fuss, but I don't relent. I need those pictures.  _Need_  them. I need something intimate of Edward and I know that those pictures are exactly it. Edward got my drawing, the tattoo on his shoulder, and I would get his masturbation pictures.

"Just make your fucking demand, Emmett, or I'm going to make sure one of the Cullens finds out you have nudey pics of Edward and get your ass sued."

"Fuck, fine. I know you knew all along that I planned on using the fuckers against you to get what I wanted. This isn't the situation I expected, Jazzy. I thought you'd get frustrated with Edward, I know how stubborn he is, and come to me for them. But this, shit, Jazz, this is going to eat at my conscience. I wanted to get a blowjob out of the pictures at least, a fuck at best, but now I can't ask for either without feeling guilty.  _God_ ," he draws out the word into a long groan.

"Just ask for anything, Emmett, I'll give it to you and this is your one chance, so fucking go for it," I contend.

"Fine, come here."

He holds out his arms and I do as he asks, getting up on my knees and moving closer to him. I expect him to unzip right here or something and ask for head, but he surprises me by pulling me into his lap so I'm straddling his hips. He looks right into my eyes as he pulls me in for a kiss and I grip at his shirt to ground myself.

I know I have to at least pretend to like it.

The kiss shockingly isn't bad, but he's not who I want, so I don't really get into it. His lips are soft and full and he's a great kisser, I know that much at least. His hands are skilled and steady as the roam my body and his experience is obvious, which kills the whole mood for me—if kissing  _Emmett_ isn't enough of a mood-killer as it is.

He pulls back after a unexpectedly short time and keeps his lips pursed and his eyes closed. "Are you getting anything out of this?" He opens his eyes and says, "Honestly."

I feel bad that I have to say, "No, Emmett, not really."

He hums and raises his knees, which makes my ass slide right down onto his groin and I'm dumbfounded by the fact that he's not sporting a raging hard-on. He pulls me back in for more and I open my mouth to him as he presses his tongue against my lips.

I barely even feel a twitch from his usually very excitable cock as he grips my hips and rocks me forward and back on him.

The sound of flip-flops on hardwood pulls my attention from Emmett's kiss and I look up to find a pair of legs on my front steps.

I push away from Emmett as soon as I realize that I would recognize those hideous fucking flip-flops anywhere.

Edward is standing at my front door, hand half-poised to knock, while I'm struggling to free myself from the tangle of limbs that Emmett and I are just a few yards away from him under the shade of a tree.

I barely have a chance to register the look of hurt on his face before he calmly replaces it with a blank expression.

"Thought you'd want these back," he says flatly, then drops a packet of my graphite pencils down onto the patio. He quickly turns to leave and I jump up to chase after him.

"Edward, please, let me explain, it's not what it looks like."

He grabs the shades off of the top of his head and slams them down over his eyes before he turns back to look at me. "You can stop with your fucking lies, Jasper, it's exactly what it looks like."

Just like the time before, he speeds away from me in his fucking car.

I fucking knew it was going to be Emmett who would ruin this for me.


	4. Chapter 4

I'm beside myself with regret by the time I can no longer see Edward's car. He came to me, and I was in the lap of another man—fucking Emmett, of all men.

"Are you going to take this out on me?" Emmett asks.

I feel my shoulders sag down and I reach up to rub my eyes before I turn around. "No, Em," I answer him. "It's my fault."

"Do you want me to go?"

I shrug. "Whatever, but you have to promise me one thing before you leave."

He sighs exaggeratedly and mumbles incoherently to himself before finally answering me. "Okay, Jasper, whatever you want."

"I want the pictures, and I want you to promise me that you will get rid of every single copy of them that you have,  _tonight_. The ones on your phone first, then the ones on your computer, the printed off copies, the files you have saved on backup devices, the ones you have in your iPod, all of them. I want them all destroyed, immediately. Promise me."

It takes him a long fucking time to agree, but finally he does. "I'm only doing this because of what happened tonight. I feel like shit, especially considering the kiss didn't do anything for me."

"Really?" I ask, still shocked by the knowledge, though I'd certainly realized during that he wasn't really,  _really_ into it like I'd expected him to be.

"Of course, really. I say what I mean and I mean what I say, I'll get rid of the pictures, but it better be worth it, Jazz."

"Yeah, sure, that's not what I meant. The kiss seriously didn't do shit for you?"

He rubs his head like he's confused and nods. "It's weird. All this time I expected us to be all hot together, but there was just... nothing. No spark between us, you know? I could tell you weren't into it, but it's not even that. Even though it was you, it was still just a kiss for me. I don't know what happened, Jazzy, but I was kind of bored. That's the last thing I expected to be while making out with you."

"So is this unrequited shit between us over?"

"I'm gonna have to sleep on that one. I'm not knocking your kissing skills at all, you can kiss like a motherfucker, but yeah, just nothing. Weirdest shit ever. And I think I'll go, you look like you want to be alone right now. I don't really want to be here when you get pissed off at me for this, so I'll email you the pictures and obliterate the evidence on my side, then I'll probably cry myself to sleep."

I sigh and reach out to pat him on the shoulder. "I do appreciate it, Emmett, and I'm sorry that I will probably eventually want to kill you."

He just gives me a grim smile in return. He knows I'm not joking. It's likely that I will take this out on Emmett at some point—if I don't get Edward back, that is, and it's highly likely that that will be the outcome. I'm not sure what he would do if he ever saw me again. I assume he probably really hates me.

God,  _I_  fucking hate me.

I trudge back toward my house, only stopping to pick up what Edward left. My fucking graphite pencils; he brought me my graphite pencils. He probably wanted to talk to me, face-to-face, and there I was sucking on Emmett's tongue. Jesus.

It makes me wonder what would have happened if Emmett wouldn't have been here. That probably would have been bad though, too. I would have answered the door in my underwear, or naked if I was really feeling depressed—which I was—and looked like complete shit. He probably would have just left without a word. Still, that would have been better than him finding me straddling Emmett.

The worst part is that I can't even blame him for hating me, I deserve it. I lied to him, I lied to all of them. I was nothing but a no good fucking player.

I scoff and fall back into my bed, holding my graphite to my chest like they're a fucking piece of Edward somehow.

I never used to think of myself as a player, but now, shit, I don't think I can go back. I've spotted the flaw and I can't just ignore it. But even if I didn't realize how fucked up my little  _game_  was, I don't think I would be able to go back.

Edward fucking got to me, bad. And I don't know how long it's going to take for me to get over him.

–

A few weeks pass before I finally start to leave my house again. I have turned into a hermit who stares forlornly at a box of graphite pencils while I avoid my computer and the outside world like the fucking plague.

I haven't checked my email since before Edward brought me my pencils. I can't work up the courage to see him, even in pictures. I simply take Emmett's word that he did indeed send them and deleted the copies he had. Nothing bothers me more than the thought of someone else having something so intimate as nudey pictures of  _my_ Edward.

I'm obsessed and I fucking know it. It kills me every time I force myself not to send him a text or not to drive by his house on the way home from the grocery store.

I know he doesn't want to hear that I miss him, or that I have fallen in love with him, so I don't tell him, and it tears me to pieces. I want him to know. I want so badly to go to his house, to grab him by his perfectly chaotic fucking hair, and fucking kiss him like he is the last man on earth, because frankly, to me, he is. I want to tell him that I love him and that I need him because without him, I can't even fucking think straight, I can't see straight. It's like a part of me is missing and I don't know what to do.

But he doesn't want to know, and he doesn't feel the same way, and he doesn't try to contact me at all.

I have to force myself to get dressed and to leave the house, but I do it because I don't want to be a coward anymore. I know I probably won't ever look at the pictures, but I want to be able to check my email without feeling the need to cry. Getting out of the house altogether seems like it should be the first step in my recovery so that's what I start with.

I just drive around for a while the first night, because I don't know what else to do. I consider stopping at the gym, but I'm way too dressed up for that. I don't really need any groceries but I stop at the store anyway, and the contraceptive aisle taunts me the entire time.

I must be the unluckiest bastard ever because I run into Jessica and she's buying Edward's favorite cookies, so I know she must be shopping for him.

"Jasber," she gasps, and I ignore her like I can't see her right fucking there in front of me. "I no see you for so long, I think you die! Where you been, puta?"

I abandon my cart that has nothing but a bottle of olive oil and a Details magazine in it and practically run out of the store. I can hear Jessica calling me a 'puta' repeatedly as I flee and it makes my already broken heart shatter.

I even miss her obnoxiously bitchy attitude. She was always giving me shit about checking out Edward's ass. I really miss Edward's ass.

I cry myself to sleep and dream of bronze hair tickling my abdomen as my lover sleeps with his head against my stomach. I dream of my fingers running through the mess of colors and I gasp awake as dream-Edward looks up at me and smiles.

I'm never going to get over him.

–

I have to force myself to get out of my house day after day; I attend art shows and a few historical seminars in the area and it calms my mind, if only momentarily.

I finally work up the guts to open my email and I groan when I find more spam and porn than any one person should have in their inbox. I have to sift and sort through and when I spot Edward's name, I freeze. It's not an email from him, of course, it's from Emmett. It's his pictures, but the subject still makes me panic.

 _Edward Cums: A Picture Show_

Did Emmett really have to make the subject so fucking enticing, and so fucking scary at the same time?

I draw in a deep breath and hold it as I finally open the fucking email.

 _Here are the pictures, asshole. I hope you put them to good use, because I'm going to miss them like you wouldn't fucking believe. I hate you so much right now._

 _EmmCart_

Thank God, the pictures are in a zipped folder so I don't have to see them. I sigh out the breath I am holding loudly and save the email. I can't stand the thought of deleting them, but I can't bring myself to look at them either. If he doesn't want me to see his cock, then I will respect his wishes.

For now.

–

I drove past Rogue's several times before I was finally able to talk myself into going in. It was  _our_ place, I had to go in there. If I was ever going to get past this, I needed to confront everything that reminded me of him.

The first night at Rogue's was more uncomfortable than anything else. It literally felt like I had to relearn how to go out again. I sat alone at a far table in the corner, just trying to stay calm enough not to start crying because everything fucking had  _him_ all over it.

The second night I went back was actually harder than the first. It was Open Mike night, which reminded me of Edward in itself, but then, like, three idiots decided to fucking sing  _Bad Boy_  by Inner Circle and I completely lost it. Edward's ringtone was that stupid fucking COPS theme song, and I always busted his balls for it. I elected to leave instead of going to cry in the bathroom. Either way, it was a fucking failure.

Night after night, I went back, and slowly but surely, I finally grew comfortable with my surroundings again. There were a lot of close calls over time; times when I would think I saw Edward out of the corner of my eye. I was able to teach myself this breathing ritual that calmed me down enough to think clearly—clear enough to realize that I was imagining him.

Tonight, I was even able to sit at a table with another man. I was feeling guilty for it still, but I was able to hold my own in a conversation with him despite that. I'm fairly sure he's gay, because he keeps giving me this little smile and I think he's flirting. I'm not nearly close enough to being ready to even think about dating yet, but I think it's healthy for me to talk to a man—a gay man. I've made myself promise that I will find myself a nice gay boyfriend and settle down, no more playing the straight boys. Or I'm just going to be alone forever, because I can't even look this gay guy in the eye without feeling like shit.

I miss Edward. I want Edward.

I look up at Jake—Jake? I think that's his name. Sounds close enough. I look up at him and he's staring at me expectantly.

"What? Sorry, I got distracted, can you run that by me again?" I say, having no idea what he's just said.

He looks a bit disappointed as he glances down at the table, but then he raises his eyes to me again and smiles. "I asked if you were single."

"Oh..." I breathe. I don't know how to answer. The truth is obviously that I am as single as a dollar fucking bill, but I can't bring myself to tell him that. I am too attached to Edward to honestly be a real single man. "It's complicated," is my answer for his question.

"Well, it's not any of my business, I know, but does it have anything to do with that man at the bar who keeps glancing over here?"

"What?" I ask.

"That guy," he says, leaning forward, and I follow suit. "He keeps looking over here, at you actually, but he's caught my eye a few times, and if looks could kill..."

My stomach clenches and I turn without really thinking it through. I know it's probably Emmett or James, or anyone other than Edward, but I can't help but hope. And my hope isn't pointless, because Edward is sitting up at the bar, a bottle of beer gripped so tightly between his white knuckles that I'm sure it's going to shatter in his hand.

I quickly turn back around in my seat. I probably look like I've just seen a ghost, and I honestly feel like I have. I'm shaking and I can't breath, and Jake is asking me if I'm okay, but I don't know how to respond.

I knew there was a chance that I'd see him again someday, but I never expected it to be this soon. I thought he'd avoid Rogue's since I knew he'd want to avoid me. But he's here. He's fucking here.

I can't even look at him, though I desperately want to. I have to leave him alone. He doesn't want me.

Jake stands up abruptly and I look up at him. He's not looking at me at all, so I figure I've probably ruined it with him quite thoroughly now, but I don't give a shit. It's actually kind of a relief.

Suddenly, as abruptly as Jake had rose to his feet, I am being pulled to my own by my shirt collar.

My head is spinning and I have no idea what is happening, but I hear someone yell about taking their hands off me, and someone else yells about staying the fuck away from me and there is what sounds like a fist connecting with something hard.

I can't see straight, I can't breath, and I know it is because of Edward. Edward has me by the collar of my shirt and he's dragging me across the bar. I don't know where we are going, and I am scared of what he is going to do to me or say to me, but I stumble along with him anyway because I love him. I fucking love him and I'll let him beat the living shit out of me if it means he's going to touch me.

He thrusts me forward and I hit a wall. Something slams so loudly the sound reverberates around the room and I'm shaking so hard that my knees nearly buckle, but I don't move. His open palms slam against the wall on either side of my head and I cower before him. His jaw is as hard and solid as the wall behind me, rippling as he clenches and loosens it. His eyes are dark and dangerous and I can feel myself wanting to gravitate toward the pull he has over me. I want to fall into him. I want to fall into the dark and dangerous, the unknown.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he asks, his voice surprisingly quiet and soft compared to the charged way he is standing over me.

I can't answer. My brain seems disconnected from my body. Even if I could think of something to say to him, I don't know if I could make my lips move to form the words.

"Who is he?" he asks, not so quietly. This time the edge is there, his tone lethal as the look he has fixed on me. I tremble and again can't answer, and it seems to piss him off more. "Fucking answer me!" he yells and slams his hands against the wall again.

"I don't know," I gasp, shaking. "His name is Jacob, I just met him. I think he's gay."

"You  _think_ he's gay?" Edward asks hysterically. He laughs bitterly. "He has been eye-fucking you all night, you can bet your ass he's gay."

"I didn't notice," I say honestly.

"Jackson, are you okay?" I hear called from outside. I realize for the first time that we are in the handicapped bathroom stall at Rogue's. I momentarily wonder who the fuck Jackson is. I really don't think anyone else is in here. "Oh, shit, please answer me. Jackson, are you okay?"

Edward seems to realize the same moment I do that it is Jacob out there and I am apparently the guy he is looking for. His arms tense and the expression on his face turns absolutely fucking murderous. His nostrils flare and his body moves closer to mine before he pushes himself away from the wall.

I want to reach out for him, I'm terrified of what he's going to do, but I'm frozen against the fucking wall, too scared to touch him.

The door bounces off the wall with a thud when Edward yanks it open.

"Where is he?" I hear Jake ask darkly.

"That's none of your fucking business. I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from him. I guess I didn't make myself very clear."

"Jackson, are you okay?" Jake asks again.

I open my dry mouth to respond but Edward beats me to it. "His name is Jasper, you fucking dickhead, and he isn't interested in you, so I'll say this for the last fucking time. Keep your hands off of him and stay the fuck away."

"Listen, I don't know who the fuck you are or what the fuck your problem is, but we were having a nice time until he realized that you were here. He looked really fucking scared the second he saw you sitting there and you fucking dragged him away like a complete prick, so I just want to make sure he's okay. Okay?" Jake's voice gives towards the end, and I know I have to do something before Edward ruins his future by hurting this poor guy.

I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath.  _I can do this_.

I raise my hand to my face to make sure there aren't any tears there before slowly pressing away from the wall. I step through the door opening and find Jacob shoved up against the mirror, Edward's fist raised in front of his face. He looks ready to hit him, but Jake darts his wide eyes to me and visibly relaxes when he sees that I'm fine.

Physically, at least.

I meet Edward's eyes in the mirror and he stares back at me for a long moment. He releases Jake unexpectedly and Jake sags downward against the sinks, coughing slightly as he massages the skin on his throat.

"Get the fuck out of here and remember what I fucking told you," Edward growls.

Jake gives him a glare then his face softens as he looks at me. "Are you really okay? I'll leave my number—"

"No, you fucking won't," Edward cuts him off. He grabs Jake by the hair and forcibly shoves him through the door. After shoving the door shut behind him, Edward clicks the lock into place and doesn't look at me as he walks over to the sinks.

He turns a faucet on and runs his hands under the water, then rubs them over his face and into his hair. "Do you see what you've done to me?" he asks quietly, keeping his hands over his face.

"You were always pretty volatile," I say back bravely.

He scoffs, but doesn't deny it. "Are you with Emmett?" he asks suddenly, completely catching me off guard.

I start fucking laughing, but only until I realize that he's serious. "No," I answer firmly. I take a cautious step in his direction and when he doesn't seem to mind, I take another. "Edward, I was never with Emmett. What you saw, it was a one time thing that I did only because I had to. He bribed me, he had something I wanted."

"Yeah, a cock," Edward replies.

I don't hesitate to sucker punch him in the shoulder and he hisses and moves away. "Don't be a fucking prick," I scold.

He laughs and nods. "Sorry," he mumbles and rubs his shoulder. His face crumples then and he says, "No, no, I'm not. Why the fuck should I believe you? You lied to me."

I close my eyes to block out the hurt expression on his face, but it's already burned into my retinas and I can see it whether I look at him or not. "I did lie to you, and I'm sorry, Edward. I'm done lying now, and I know that you probably won't believe me, but I did what I did for you."

"You... No," he spits, sounding pissed off again. He's apparently pissed again, because he shoves me back against the wall, hard enough to make my head slam into it. "Don't you dare fucking tell me that you were shoving your tongue in his mouth for me. That's bullshit!"

I slowly open my eyes, and he quickly moves his away, refusing to look at me.

"I'm not lying to you anymore, Edward. I kissed Emmett because he had pictures of you. In the beginning it was only about me having the pictures, but in the end, that's not why I did it. Yes, I did want them, but fuck, after what happened, I couldn't even bring myself to look at them because I knew you wouldn't want me to. Emmett doesn't have them anymore, I do, and if you say the word, I'll delete them."

"What the fuck are you talking about? What pictures?"

"From a long time ago," I explain. "Emmett stole the pictures off of one of your old girlfriend's phones."

The realization hits him quickly. "Oh, fuck." His cheeks go pink and he closes his eyes. "Emmett has pictures of me jerking off?"

"No," I answer. "He did, but now I have them. But, I swear to you, Edward, I haven't looked at them and I'll delete them if you want me to."

"Why?" he inquires, finally looking me in the eye again.

"Because, they are yours, they're personal. I knew you wouldn't want me seeing them, so I respected that. I know it doesn't make up for the fact that I lied to you, but just know that I'm really sorry, and if I could take it all back I would. And..."

"What?" Edward asks.

I lick my lips then start to chew on the bottom one as I contemplate finishing my sentence. I decide that I have to say it, just once. If he rejects me, then he rejects me, and hopefully I'll be able to move on knowing that I said it.

"And I really care about you. I've missed you," I say.

His eyes lower slightly and he stares at the top of my shirt for a few awkward breaths until he speaks again. "This wasn't suppose to happen," he speaks quietly.

"I know, I'm sorry," I affirm.

"I like  _girls_ ," he continues.

"I know. Maybe we can try to be friends again," I hear myself suggesting before I realize what it is that I'm actually fucking saying. I don't know what the fuck I'm thinking, I just know I don't want to lose him completely if I still have a chance. "I promise I don't have some fucked up ulterior motive, and I'll never put you in an awkward situation. We can just be friends, I promise."  _Please. Please. Please_!

"I don't think we can, Jasper. I don't think we can go back," he says.

I tuck my chin defensively, but it doesn't stop the breaking of my heart. Stupid, stupid hope. "That's... perfectly understandable," I assure him.

"I think I jinxed myself right from the beginning by insisting you were a girl," he says laughingly.

I'm confused for about seventeen seconds, then it clicks and my head rockets back, slamming against the hard ass fucking wall again. It hurts like hell since I've already hit it once and tears instantly fill my eyes.

Edward's eyes anxiously scan my face as he reaches his hands up into my hair. I tense and inhale as he presses his fingers against the sore spot on my skull and lightly starts to rub.

"You're going to give yourself a fucking concussion," he chastises.

I want to tell him that it's his fucking fault, but my mind is too busy reeling. What the fuck is he saying? I know my eyes are wide and my mouth is probably hanging open, but I can't contain my shock. Is he really fucking saying what I think he is? His eyes nervously move to the side and I still feel myself rudely gawking and scanning his face, trying to figure out what he is saying.

There's a three second pause where he gets this determined look on his face and I hold my breath, waiting for him to say it, whatever it is he's wanting to say, but he just drops to his knees.

What the fuck?

Then his hands are quickly undoing the front of my jeans and he's yanking my pants and underwear down my thighs. It literally takes three-fourths of a second for me to achieve a raging fucking hard-on. My dick comprehends what he's doing before my brain does—I guess for certain things, it's better to think with your little head.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I ask, though it is pretty fucking obvious what he plans on doing as he stares down my cock.

And then his hand is wrapped around it. And then his lips are wrapped around it. And I'm in fucking heaven.

Or my dick is in fucking heaven. My mind is too busy trying to catch the fuck up.

"Holy motherfucking Christ," I gasp.

How the fuck did my dick get in his mouth?

 _Who the fuck cares_ , were my dick's thoughts.  _No, no, no, this is so wrong_ , is the only thing running through my mind. And, as I had to remind myself, I am now thinking with my big head.

But my original cursing gasp seemed to spur him on. He took more of me into his mouth and I felt him gag the second I hit his throat.

"Jesus, Edward, stop," I say frantically. I gently grip his shoulders and push him away. If my dick could scream, it would be doing so now, in protest.

"What?" he asks defensively. He stands up and I reach for him, but he shrinks away.

"What the hell are you thinking?" I wonder aloud. I still don't understand how the hell my dick ended up in his mouth.

His face turns a furious shade of pink and he looks beyond hurt. "You don't want me?" he asks resignedly.

A disbelieving laugh bursts from my lips before I can stop it and his eyes pop open, surprisingly watery. I glance down suggestively before muttering, "I think the answer speaks for itself."

His eyes follow and then he's staring at my cock. There are several times when I think he is going to look away, but he doesn't. As if I wasn't already hard enough from him putting my dick in his mouth, now he's staring at it and the blood pulsing through it just turns painful. He looks like he's at war with himself, caught somewhere between wanting to look away and not being able to. I solve his problem for him by stuffing myself back into my pants.

"We need to take this slow," I explain, as he starts to look sort of upset again. "Maybe go back to being just friends so we can get comfortable with each other again. I need you to be able to trust me before we can, uh, you know, take it to the next level. I mean, if you want to, someday. I don't want you to feel pressured into this. If you decide that you want me, you're going to have to feel secure with me, and right now, you don't. I can't do this if it's not right for you too."

"Why do you keep suggesting that we go back to being just friends?" he asks.

I throw my hands up in frustration. "I have no fucking idea, because I'm a cock-blocker?"

The smirk that adorns his face after I say that makes me want to weep. I've fucking missed it so much. "Can I kiss you?" I hear myself say all breathily.

His smirk widens further. "Thought you just said we are going to be just friends."

I nearly snark back at him, but a vicious pound on the door cuts me off. "This is security, open this door."

"Shit," I hiss.

"Want to have some fun?" he asks, this devious little glint in his eye that makes me positive that I want to say yes, no matter the consequences.

I nod and he reaches for my hair and starts rubbing my head wildly, then pulling his long fingers through it 'til it is all standing on end. I'm confused, to say the least, and wondering if I just got myself some weird, kinky boyfriend.

He starts doing the same to his own hair then he undoes the top four buttons of his shirt and unzips his pants. I finally catch on and untie my shoes and he snickers.

God, I love him.

I rip my shirt off and flip it inside-out.

"I'm coming in," yells security, then the door is being unlocked from the outside. I quickly pull my shirt back over my head and try not to laugh.

In barges the man who has been yelling at us and behind him is Jacob. I hear Edward growl, and I giggle to myself like a schoolgirl. I grab one of his wrists, just to be on the safe side, and he entwines our fingers, squeezing my hand roughly.

"Why was the door locked?" the man demands.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing and I can see Edward smirking from the corner of my eye. The man watches Edward use his free hand to zip his pants up and I think it finally clicks.

He steps into the bathroom and lets the door close behind him. "Look, I don't want to have to report  _this_ , so can you please just keep that shit in the privacy of your home?"

Jacob pushes the door open before we can answer and Edward tenses behind me. I step in front of Edward as he tries to move forward and I catch his other wrist as he goes to raise his hand.

Fuck me, he's a jealous, over-protective little bastard.

I can feel Edward pressing himself against my backside and his breath is puffing into my hair in short bursts. It makes me so fucking hot that I seriously start to get a little incoherent.

The security guard clears his throat, drawing my attention back to his question.

"Oh, yeah, sure, absolutely. It'll never happen again."

"Great," he says, sounding sarcastic. He turns to leave anyway, and Jake holds the door open for him, but doesn't follow.

"I'm going to fucking kill him," Edward breathes down my neck. I shudder and unintentionally shove my ass back against his groin, which makes him tense.

 _Well, babe, that's what you get when you talk dirty to me._

Gathering my bearings, I look up at Jacob. "Jake, I'm sorry. Thank you so much for making sure that I was okay. I promise, I am. I'd like to make it up to you."

"What?" Edward gasps and I tighten my grip on his wrists. "No you fucking won't. You're not making anything up to him."

"I'd like to give you the number of a friend of mine," I go on, ignoring Edward's panic attack behind me.

"Oh," Edward sighs. I jump when his lips touch the back of my neck. "Sorry," he whispers.

This time it's completely intentional when I shove my ass against him, and he chuckles.

I swear to God, I'm not going to make it a week without fucking him...

"If you've been here before, you might have seen him. He's really tall and built, he has dark brown, really curly hair and his eyes are shockingly blue."

"He's gay?" Jake asks in disbelief, sounding as if he knows exactly who I'm talking about.

I nod. "Yes, his name is Emmett, and I'm sure he'd love to meet you."

I willingly give Jake Em's information and hope that it'll make up for the trouble I've caused for both of them.

After Jake leaves, I pull my shirt off and grin when I catch Edward watching. I flip it back the right way, then kneel down and start retying my shoe laces. "You should probably fix your shirt," I suggest.

Truthfully, I'd rather strut my fine ass out of this place with Edward's arm around me and a shit-eating grin on my face while he looks like he'd been thoroughly fucked, but I'm worried what will happen if someone comments on us being 'homos.'

I'm not naïve, and I know we are going to have a long, hard road ahead of us. I'm willing to work through it, I just hope that he will be too.

"We should go somewhere private so we can talk. The men's room at a bar isn't exactly a good place to be working this out."

He nods in agreement. "My place or yours?" he asks.

"Yours, preferably. At least there I won't have to sleep on a couch if it gets too late."

"Scared to share a bed with me, Whitlock?" he asks, jokingly.

I want to laugh, I do. But I can't because I remember the last time we slept in the same house, and the hurt comes rushing back.

"You're the one who accused me of rape," I deadpan.

The smirk that had been on his face melts away like I've just backhanded him. "Jasper..." he says desperately. "I'm so sorry, I never actually thought—"

"Let's talk about this at your place, okay?" I ask, cutting him off as gently as possible.

He nods slowly. "Are you sure? I mean, are you sure that  _you_ want this? If you only want to be friends, I can do that, if it's really all you want."

"Hey," I say as I start to lose him. He's looking everywhere but at me, and this is why I want to get him home. I need him to be somewhere he's comfortable, not a fucking bar bathroom. It's only making this shit worse. I know he's feeling more than just a little bit confused and insecure right now. "I'm sure. Let's go."

Edward needs to use the bathroom, so I leave ahead of him and tell him I'll meet him at his place. He looks a little worried, like I might be lying and I won't meet him there, but he's crazy if he really thinks that. I guess he really doesn't know that I  _love_ him, yet.

"I'll see you in a few," I promise. He nods, still looking a little reluctant, and watches me as I back out the door.

–

I wait for him at his place on the front patio, and he shows up literally just a few seconds after I get there. The relief on his face is obvious and I smile at him reassuringly. I am not going anywhere, he doesn't need to worry. When I smile, he shyly looks down at the ground and walks past me. I wonder what he's being shy about now, it's not like we're going in the house to have sex or something, we need to talk. I doubt I'll even try to kiss him tonight, though I know I'll want to, and I'll probably think about doing it a lot, but I was serious when I said we should take it slow. Now, if he kisses me, that will be a different story completely.

Edward unlocks the door and glances at me over his shoulder. I once again try to smile reassuringly, I hope he doesn't think I'm being creepy.

Finally, he swings the door open and lets me inside. I kick my shoes off and immediately head for the couch, like this is my home or something. Honestly, it feels more like home than my own home does these days. I really missed being here—mostly because it's Edward place. I also really miss the awesome pool, and seeing Edward in it.

"Would you like something to drink?" Edward calls and I change my path and head towards the kitchen to meet him there.

I catch him pouring a shitload of vodka into a glass of orange juice, and he has the decency to at least look really guilty when he notices I'm there.

"I need something to take the edge off," he mutters, popping the cap back on and moving to the freezer to put the bottle away.

I reach around him and pull the fridge open to get a bottle of water. I notice that he doesn't really flinch away from me, but I can tell he's holding his breath. I don't know what he's expecting me to do? Grab his dick and tell him we need to fuck already? I don't get it.

I find the water, shut the fridge, and turn to go back to my intended location. As I turn though, Edward catches my wrist and stops me. "You know I don't talk when I get nervous, and you know I'm really fucking nervous right now, but if you're going to be all fucking pissy about it, I don't have to drink."

"Do what you have to do," I reply lightly, shaking him off of my wrist.

"Great," he says, turning back to his cup, "my first hissy fit."

While he's turned, I walk away. Instead of heading for the couch, I decide to go up the stairs. I'm about halfway up before I hear Edward cursing to himself and heading in the opposite direction as me. From where I am, I'm at a vantage point and I can see basically everything he does, so I stop and watch from the second floor landing.

"Jasper, I didn't—" he starts to say apologetically but then he realizes that I'm not where he expected me to be.

He turns and heads towards the bathroom and does a complete loop around the stairs, calling, "Jasper?" once, expectantly.

I don't answer him, because I'm being petty and I can't fucking believe he said I was throwing a hissy fit. I'll show him a fucking hissy fit.

He does another loop around the stairs, this time I hear him go out the backdoor to check for me by the pool. When he doesn't find me there, he comes racing back into the entry area and runs right for the door. His hand is buried into his hair, and I think he's probably freaking out a little bit that I've left because of what he said. He yanks the door open and looks outside, and visibly relaxes when he sees my car is still in his drive, but then his shoulders stiffen and he looks downright fucking pissed, even from behind.

"Jasper!" he calls angrily.

He slams the door and turns around, and his eyes dart up to mine. "Fucking prick," he yells, ripping his hand from his hair to throw in my direction, to show how angry he is. I'm not impressed. "I'm not fucking six years old, I don't fucking play hide and go fucking seek anymore. Couldn't you just fucking answer me?"

I raise one eyebrow scornfully and he basically withers before my eyes. "Okay, fine, I get it, I was being an ass. I'm sorry."

He starts in my direction, climbing the stairs slowly, and completely freezes halfway up. His eyes dart up, scanning the hall on either side of me like something is going to pop out and get him.

"Why are we going upstairs?" he asks.

Ah. He thinks I'm going to take his beloved virginity already. Silly boy. "I'm getting past one of your 'Do Not Enter' signs tonight," I tell him, just to fuck with him a little bit—it's the only fucking we're going to be doing for a while.

I don't wait for him to respond to that and I turn towards his bedroom, which just happens to be in the same direction as my actual destination: The Secret Room.

It's not like it's actually a secret room or something, but in all the time I'd spent at his house, he'd always avoided the third floor. I don't know why, but I assume it's because it's personal to him. So that's where I'm going.

I take a seat on the fluffy blanket and pillow bed on the floor and make myself comfy. It takes him about ten minutes to either figure out what I meant or to get the courage to face me up here. I'm assuming the latter, though, because he's pretty fucking smart and pretty fucking cowardly sometimes.

"Why are you up here?" he asks.

"Because, it's your personal space and I want to get in your personal space."

His face turns red and he grits his teeth. "Would you fucking stop with the jokes?"

"What jokes?" I ask back, the picture of innocence.

"The fucking butt sex jokes," he says through tight lips.

"Butt sex?" I repeat, and his face turns even redder. "Anal? Dirty digging? Backdoor action? Ass ravaging? Fudge packing?"

"Oh my fucking God, Jasper, stop!" he yells. I don't think he could look anymore embarrassed.

"You wanted a fucking hissy fit," I challenge.

He sighs. "Didn't you already fucking punish me for that?"

"Baby, I haven't even started throwing a 'hissy fit' yet."

His eyes widen and dart towards me when I call him 'baby'. I'm not sure if he likes it or not, but I frankly don't give a shit right now. He's being a baby, whether I meant it as an endearment is up for him to decide. He appears to soften, so I take it that he is okay with me calling him it.

He is carrying his glass of mostly vodka, and it appears that he hasn't drank a whole lot yet. He sets it down on a table and slowly moves closer to where I'm currently laying. He sits down next to me with his back against the wall. We both remain silent for a few long minutes, then I speak.

"Why haven't you brought me up here?"

"Like you said, it's my personal space," he replies.

"That doesn't answer my question."

He sighs. "I wasn't ready to bring you up here," he answers.

"Okay, better. Would you like me to leave?"

"No," he says quickly.

"I just mean would you rather I wasn't up here, would you like me to leave this room?" I clarify, in case he thought I meant leave altogether.

"No," he repeats. "I don't want you to leave at all, I want you  _here_."

"Okay." There is a quiet pause before I ask, "So you play the piano?"

"Sometimes," he replies.

"I've never heard you," I persist.

"That's because I've never played for you," he says, more cynically than anything.

I sigh and sit up, putting my back to Edward. "Maybe I should go," I suggest.

"You fucking know I'm like this," he snaps, "so fucking stop making me feel so fucking guilty. Don't act like you don't know I'm an insensitive asshole."

"I'm fucking tired, Edward, I should have just fucking went home. I'm sorry, but I think it's better if we put this off until later. We both need a little time alone, I think."

"No," he says defiantly. "There are like seventeen fucking bedrooms in this house, find one and sleep here."

"Why?" I ask. "So you can accuse me of something fucking heinous again? We need to be alone, apart from each other, to think. You don't trust me, at all, and I can't even fucking stand the way you've been watching me all night. You act like I'm going to be waiting around every fucking corner with my dick out, ready to stick it in you.

"I'm not a fucking monster, I know I'm the bad guy in our situation, but fuck, Edward, I never meant to hurt you like I did. We both need to take a step back and breathe. You still have my number, you can call me whenever you are ready, but for now, I think it's best if we just give each other a little space."

"I don't want you to go," he says.

I sigh. "I know, Edward. But I also know  _why_ you don't want me to go, even if you won't come out and say it. You don't want me to go because you're scared I'm not going to come back. You don't want me to go because you don't trust me not to do something behind your back. I want you to want me to stay, not to not want me to go, which is why I do have to leave right now."

"I don't understand how you leaving is going to make anything better," he says.

I turn towards him and offer him a small, tired smile. "It will, because when you call me, it'll let me know that you want me to come back because you want me here. And I will come back, not just because you want me to, but because you are the man I want to be with, the only man. So, goodnight, Edward."

He doesn't say anything as I stand and start to walk away.

My head hurts and my eyes are blurry and I just want to go to sleep. I love him, and I know I can be patient, but tonight, I seriously need to get some sleep. I trust him enough to believe he'll call when he's ready.

I'm just unlocking my car doors when my phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket and see Edward's names flashing on the screen. I turn around and look up at the huge window wall and see him standing there with his phone pressed to his ear, staring down at me.

I open the phone and bring it to my ear.

"Come back," he says.


	5. Chapter 5

For about half a second I think about refusing, but I know I can't possibly do that to him. Not tonight. We have plenty of time for the complicated shit later.

"I have one stipulation," I utter, grinning up at him, though he probably can't see it.

"Of course you do," he says, and I swear I can hear the smirk in his voice. I also think I can almost see it from down here.

"Scratch that, I have two stipulations."

"Okay, run them by me."

"Well, the first is that you need to bring your fine ass down here to open the door for me because I locked it behind me when I left."

He starts laughing. "My fine ass is on the way. What's the second?"

I hang up without answering his question and re-pocket my phone. I hear the lock click open and can't help but smile when he pulls the door open. I step inside and kick the door closed behind me.

"So?" he asks expectantly.

"This," is my answer.

I step towards him and his eyes widen just slightly. As I move to wrap my arms around his neck, he licks his lips and I know he thinks I'm going to kiss him. It definitely boosts my confidence that he really doesn't seem at all put off by the idea, but I'm not going to kiss him tonight.

I move in close to him and fold my arms around his neck, placing my face in the little crook between his neck and shoulder. My chest presses against his and though I want to take the final tiny shuffle forward to close the gap between our hips, I don't. I'm pushing boundaries as it is.

Edward just stands there while I hug him and I wait, breathing him in and relaxing completely. Already I know that I fit perfectly against him, even without his arms securing my waist to him or his hair tickling my ear or his lips caressing my neck. That all can wait, but it'll come, and when it does, I know it'll be everything I expected, because I fit just right here, with him.

Even when he's standing there like Michelangelo's fucking David. Edward's penis is bigger, though.

"Are you fucking smirking?" he asks quietly. And I realize that I am. I nod into his neck, and I can feel him shaking his head in response. "Why?" he wonders.

"I don't think you really want to know," I say, keeping my mouth right against his skin, so he can feel my lips caressing as I speak. Much to my satisfaction, he shudders.

"Thought there weren't going to be anymore lies. Lying by omission is still lying," he says.

I roll my eyes. "Is that what they teach you in law school?" I ask. He pokes me in the ribs and I chuckle into his skin. He still isn't really responding to my hug, but he seems to be getting more comfortable. I'm not moving until he either makes me or hugs me back. "Fine, ask me again and I'll tell you, but I'm going to warn you, it's going to make this kind of awkward."

"Like it isn't already awkward," he points out.

"Only because you are making it," I challenge.

He huffs. "Well, I'm sorry, I've never done this before. I don't exactly know how to respond," he trails off, his voice lowering so quiet I can barely catch it, "to the only man I've ever been attracted to hugging me."

"You're attracted to me?" I ask gleefully. I can feel this stupid, wide grin stretching my lips and I don't even fucking care, I just let it. I know he can feel it too.

"Don't change the fucking subject," he mutters.

I chuckle and squeeze him tighter, which makes him tense slightly. "Come on, Edward," I whisper, "you know what to do."

"No," he says, "not really."

I sigh. "Just pretend I'm a chick."

"I don't really want to," he replies.

"Well, that's good, because I want you to remember it's me you're with, but I just meant do what you would do if I was a chick."

"You have nice tits," he says.

I burst out laughing into his neck. "You must never get laid," I say through giggles.

"I just follow that up with 'I'm a lawyer' and it doesn't matter what comes out of my mouth from that point on."

I start to laugh again. "Just fucking hug me back, Edward. I'm not letting you go until you do."

"How do you know that isn't going to make me hold out longer?"

"I don't. And shut up and hug me already."

"Tell me what you were smirking about."

"I will once you hug me."

"No, you first."

I shake my head slightly and push my face further into his crook.

Finally, I feel him ease forward and his face presses into my hair. I feel his hips just barely tilt towards mine, teasing me with a subtle touch. His hands ghost feather light across my sides before wrapping around me just under my ribs. I cautiously take the final step, changing our position from toe-to-toe to thigh-to-thigh. We're completely against one another and his hold around my waist tightens, bringing my torso even tighter to his.

"I've never really hugged like this," he admits in a whisper.

"Of course you haven't," I respond. "Straight guys generally don't want to feel another guy's dick pressing against them."

He puffs a breath into my hair and I wonder if he's angry or amused. Either way, I know he just rolled his eyes at me. "I mean that I've never really hugged like this at all, with anyone."

"Hmm," I hum. "Well, you're doing fine."

"Thanks, I guess. Feels sort of nice."

I yawn and close my eyes, feeling impossibly more relaxed. He squeezes me and I smile in return. "Told you it didn't have to be awkward."

"Speaking of which, what were you smirking about before?"

I smirk again when I start to think about Edward as a statue. He would definitely make a good art model, he has the perfect body. I wonder what he'd think if I offered to draw him. Maybe I can take some sculpting classes and replicate him for anytime viewing.

"I was thinking about Michelangelo's David and how your body is more ideal because of your,  _ahem_ , finer details."

It takes about thirty seconds for it to click with him about what 'finer details' I'm really talking about. "Oh, Christ," he mutters. Then he pulls back from me unexpectedly, basically ripping himself away. "Wait a fucking minute, I thought you said you didn't look at the pictures?"

I nearly fall on my fucking face because I'd had so much of my weight leaned into him. I'd been fucking half asleep. "I didn't," I tell him, cursing the fact that our perfect little moment is now ruined.

Oh well, at least we had the moment in the first place. I give him a wide berth as I start toward the stairs.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he calls after me.

"You asked me to fucking stay, so that's what I'm doing. I'm going to fucking bed; I'm way too fucking tired for your mood swings. Goodnight."

I open the first door I come to and thank God that it is actually a bedroom. I slam the door behind me and start unbuckling my pants. Edward apparently has no idea what a closed door means because he walks right the fuck in. I don't stop on his account. He just stands there while I undress and it's more than just a little fucking awkward.

"Can I fucking help you?" I ask.

"Yeah, you can tell me how the fuck you know anything about my dick, because to my knowledge, you shouldn't."

Once I'm down to my underwear, I walk to the back of the bedroom, where there is a little bathroom tucked into the corner, and slam that door, clicking the lock behind me.

I hear his fists connect with the door. "You can't fucking ignore me, asshole."

I turn around and yank the door open. "I have to take a piss, would you like to watch?" I ask him.

"Yes," he says, "I'd love to, since that would probably make us even."

I can feel my lips curl up on their own accord and before I really think about it, I raise my hand and slap him. Across the fucking mouth. Like a chick. Shit, I've never done that before.

Frankly, I can't fucking believe I did it at all. I'm a little horrified with myself. But fucking seriously, does he have to keep accusing me of a being a sick creep?

He looks just as surprised as I feel, and possibly just as angry.

"Did you just fucking slap me?" he gasps incredulously.

I reach forward and grab his hair, pulling both of us closer to each other. He braces himself against the door frame and I press myself right up against him, getting right in his face. Nose-to-nose, eye-to-eye. I don't kiss him, though I'm more tempted than I'd like to admit.

I want to tongue-fuck his pretty little mouth. He's being such an asshole, and I'm so fucking tired, and I just want to kiss the living shit out of him.

"Yes, I fucking slapped you. I fucking told you I'm tired and we'll fucking talk later. You need to stop fucking pushing me, Edward, because I do push back. Learn to fucking stop, before you push me right off the fucking edge, okay?"

"Tell me right now how you know anything about my dick," he demands right back at me.

I growl at him and reach down, grabbing him through his jeans. He jumps and pulls back slightly.

"This is how I know. You were fucking wasted, being stupider than usual, and you fucking asked for it."

He responds to my touch extremely fast and his jaw unhinges, leaving his mouth hanging open slightly. "I asked for it?" he asks quietly.

The change in his demeanor causes me to step away from him. I sigh and rub my hands over my face, then sit on the sink counter, pressing my back up against the mirror behind me. "No, you didn't flat out ask, 'Jasper, want to grab my dick through my pants?' But shit, Edward, you kissed me and I thought it was going to be the last time I ever saw you, and I wanted something." I keep my eyes closed as I lean heavily against the mirror.

"I don't remember," he says.

"You were fucking wasted, and no, I didn't slip you anything!"

I hear him move, but I don't bother opening my eyes to see him. "I believe you, but I don't understand what happened."

I sigh and relay the entire night back to him. "I know I pushed it farther than you ever wanted it to go, and I'm sorry. And I shouldn't have grabbed you now either, so sorry for that too," I finish with.

"Well, I pushed you both times, and like you said, you push back. Plus, you saved my ass the first time. I guess we're even," he says quietly.

"And since I'm making apologies, I just want you to know that I'm  _not_ sorry that I slapped you."

He chuckles. "I can't fucking believe you slapped me, with an open palm, like a fucking girl. It was so bitchy. You can go to bed now."

"Oh, thanks for you permission. May I please take a piss, master?"

"Better watch it with that 'master' shit or I'm going hold you to calling me that."

Near the end of the sentence, I start to feel his breath on my face and I open my eyes, only to find him leaning over me. He's cocking one provocative eyebrow and I'm in nothing but a pair of boxer-briefs. And he's just suggested that there's a chance that he would be dominant in bed—that's what I heard, anyway.

 _Unf._

"Goodnight," he whispers before walking away.

I look down and stare at my boner with contempt. There is no way I'm going to be able to piss now.

"Son of a motherfucking whore," I cuss.

And when I hear his distant chuckle, I know that he's just fucked me. That little fucker.

–

 _Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump._

I groan and roll over, my arms searching for my favorite pillow to hug. I always know which one it is because it's the softest one on the bed. But I can't find it.

 _Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump._

I open my eyes and blink to clear my vision as I wonder what the fuck that thumping sound is. It slowly dawns on me that I'm still at Edward's, and then I really wonder what the fuck that thumping sound is.

It's perfectly rhythmic. And it's so fast. It can't possibly be a headboard hitting a wall, unless he's Superman in bed or something.

 _Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump._

Fuck, I can't just ignore it.

I crawl out of bed and search the floor for my clothes and find nothing. He wouldn't seriously take my fucking clothes... would he?

I can't find them anywhere, so he must have. I leave the room, nude except for my clingy boxer-briefs.

I follow the thumping and cautiously push open the door where it sounds the loudest. It makes sense when I realize that the room is Edward's gym and he's on the treadmill. Shirtless. Running. Sweaty.

 _Whimper_.

When my eyes finally finish their scan of his entire body—which admittedly takes quite a while since his junk is bouncing and I clearly see it doing so... and for about three minutes, the only thought running though my mind is 'nipples', I'm obviously horny—and reach his face, I realize that he doesn't even know I'm here. His eyes are closed and he has earbuds in. I wonder what he's thinking about.

I slowly make my way over to him and he has no idea I'm in the room. I stand right in front of the treadmill, close enough that I can hear his steady pants. Close enough that if I watch carefully, I can see individual beads of sweat running down his perfectly toned, hairless chest.

Or maybe that's just my imagination.

 _Nipples._

I reach for his iPod and carefully pick it up off of the little tray, making sure the cord doesn't jostle and alert him to my presence. I bring up what he's listening to and start to scan through what music he has on the same play list. I snicker to myself when I find  _I Get Off_  by Halestorm and wait for the track he's listening to, to end so I can sneakily make him listen to a naughty song.

I snicker to myself some more, but then Edward's soft voice starts singing the words and I nearly cream myself.

"There's so much left unspoken, between the two of us. It's so much more exciting to look when you can't touch. You could say I'm different, and maybe I'm a freak. But I know how to twist you to bring you to your knees. I get off on you, getting off on me."

Shit.

I raise my eyes from his mouth, up to his eyes, and find him giving me that same provocative fucking eyebrow raise as last night.

He knows damn well what he's doing to me, and he's loving the fuck out of it.

"It's not nice to fuck with a man's music, you know," he says.

I want to tell him it's also not nice to fuck with an incredibly horny man, unless you're doing so the  _right_ way, but I don't.

"Would you like me to sing 'Innocence' next?" he asks.

"Oh god, please don't, unless you want me to tell you where it hurts."

"Yeah, you can sing that one to me," he says, a small laugh in his tone.

And for some fucking reason, I just start singing, from the most fitting part. "Hey, did you know you're locking lips with a libertine? Hey, did you know you're knocking hips with a killer queen? Another victim of my method of seduction. I made you look but you never saw me coming. Come on and give it to me, tell you to give it me. Give it your best shot."

I couldn't tell him 'my love is black and blue', even if it was just a song, because I was going to do everything in my power to not hurt him. Plus the song was already hitting way close to home. Libertine, yes. Killer queen, hell yes. I just hoped I could make Edward believe that he wasn't going to be 'another victim of my method of seduction' because he was honestly so much more than that.

And then he starts singing to me again. "Hey, did you know that I'm the spider and you're the fly? Hey, did you know you've got your eyes on a suicide prize? With a flick of my wrist I'll twist your words around. Think you're the ace but who's got the upper hand now? Come on and give it to me, tell you to give it to me. Give it your best shot."

I don't really even think before I reach forward—practically climbing over the goddamn treadmill—and grab his face. I pull him as close to me as I can get him and reach on my fucking tippytoes the rest of the way. I kiss him, with everything I have and he kisses me back.

He knows, I just know he knows. I don't want to hurt him and he already means the fucking world to me. He isn't afraid and he's going to fucking jump into this with me. There's going to be battles and fights and probably some fucking pain along the way, but we're going to get through it. I know it, and he knows it, and we can give and take and have and be, together.

I hear something slamming down and I pull back from his lips to see his hand frantically trying to hit the right buttons to stop the treadmill and I aid him, finding the right one for him. Then his hands are on the back of my neck and we're kissing again.

It's fucking amazing. I can't even explain how perfect his mouth feels, it just does. His hair is all sweaty from running and he's panting, and I fucking love him. We so need to talk but I don't want to stop kissing him, and he doesn't seem to want to stop kissing me either.

The kiss is fairly chaste, except for the occasional flick of tongue. Neither of us pushes for an open-mouthed, full-on make out, and it's nice. I love his lips and the way he isn't really being shy at all. His thumbs are tickling the skin just below my ear, while his other fingers are threaded lightly into my hair.

God, we  _need_ to talk.

I press my lips harder to his and get in one more tongue flick—which earns me this adorable little sigh from him—before I put just enough distance between our lips to talk.

"Tell me where it hurts," I say. I know it's stupid, since it's again part of the song, but it's what I want to know. I need to know everything he's afraid of and what is still hurting him from my earlier mistakes.

"Right now, we're both hurting in the same place."

 _Unf, fucking yes_. He has a boner.

 _Focus, focus._  Right. Deep breath. I shake my head, and we're still so close that I Eskimo kiss him in the process. "We need to talk."

"Ah," he sighs knowingly. "Cry, baby, for me," he says, also quoting the song. I nod. "It can wait 'til we're done here," he decides.

He leans forward, starting the kiss all over again. I'm not going to complain, that's for fucking sure. If he wants to kiss me, he can do so for however long he wants to. Even if my calves are burning because I'm still on my tiptoes.

We just barely get back into again when the door opens. We both pull away from each other, and I immediately start to panic internally. If it's his family, he's going to fucking freak out.

A familiar laugh sounds and I sigh with relief. "I know when I catch you looking at that video, you want Meester Jasber," Jessica says.

My eyes dart to Edward's and he's cringing and blushing and I try not to laugh. "What video?" I ask.

His eyes fly open and he glares at me. Jessica starts to answer and Edward snaps at her, cutting her off. "Shut up, Jess. Go do your job!"

She huffs and turns away, slamming the door behind her. "What video?" I ask Edward.

He grumbles under his breath and gets off of the treadmill, turning his back to me to grab a bottle of water. My eyes catch the tattoo on his shoulder and I move closer to him, completely fucking transfixed. I've wanted to touch it for so long...

He jumps when my fingertips ghost over the ink. Giving him time to pull away, I lean in slowly and place one kiss right in the center. I kiss it again, dragging my lips across my art. "Tell me," I whisper. "No more lies or secrets. Tell me what video you were watching."

"Jess caught me watching a gay porno," he mumbles bashfully.

My lips curl up and he feels it and I in turn feel his shoulder stiffen. I lightly trail my fingers up his back and over his ribs. "That's good," I say. "I mean, not the Jess catching you part, that's really fucking awkward, but I'm glad you tried watching gay porn. Did you like it?"

"No, not really," he replies.

I stop my kisses and trailing fingers, feeling the heavy weight of rejection and disappointment settling into my gut. "Oh..."

"It was kind of disgusting, actually. I couldn't hardly stand watching them kiss and seeing their dicks come out was terrible. There wasn't really anything I liked about it at all."

I don't know what to say to him. He was just kissing me, and now he's telling me gay sex is disgusting? I hear him turn around but I can't open my eyes.

"I'm not gay, Jasper. I've been attracted to exactly one man in my entire life. I don't know  _what_ that makes me, bi maybe? But I'm not gay. I am attracted to you, I just... Will you look at me, please?"

With my head still down, I blink several times before raising it up to do as he asked.

"Are you really that disappointed that I'm not attracted to any other guys?" he asks.

I sigh and shake my head. "No, I guess that's pretty fucking awesome for me, but shit, Edward, you think that gay sex is disgusting. It's not," I try to explain, "it's really fucking great."

"That's not what I said," he replies. "I said that the porn was disgusting. Watching those two go at it was disgusting. I'm still glad I watched it though. I guess it probably makes me naïve, but I had no idea what two guys did together in the bedroom. I'm kind of conservative, you know, I've never thought about that kind of thing before. So, it's basically the same, I think. Make out, foreplay, sex. I just can't figure out how you decide who's the top?"

I feel all of the air burst out of my lungs in a disbelieving laugh. I shake my head and kind of fall into his warm, sweaty, bare chest and he hugs me while I laugh-sob-breathe.

"You're not supposed to laugh at me," he points out.

"I'm not laughing at you," I say, "I'm just experiencing whiplash."

"So?" he asks.

I remember his top question and try to think of a way to answer. "Well, I mean, it depends. Sometimes one man enjoys being the bottom more and the other top, sometimes it's even so they switch off. Other times it's more of a dominance thing, the aggressor takes top and the submissive gets bottomed."

"Oh. So, um, what are you?"

"Me?" I say hesitantly. "I'm neither a top, nor a bottom. I enjoy both."

"You've done both?"

"Yes, and always liked it either way. Have you ever had anal sex with a woman?"

"No," he answers quickly. "I mean, like I said, conservative—and don't bring up my little porn stunt with the pictures, that was never my fucking idea. You can look at those if you want to, by the way."

Holy shit, he just gave me permission to look at his porno pics? Oh, Christ, stay on topic. "I'm not going to make you change the way you think," I say quietly. "If it's something you are against, that's fine."

"But you just said you like it, from both ends, so to speak."

I take a step back to look at him. "Yes, I do, but you've made it pretty clear that it's not going to be something you are comfortable with. I won't push you on that."

"That's not fair. If you're willing to give it up, then I have to be willing, too. Compromise. You can't just give up sex because I'm being a prude."

"Well, I'm not going to force you and I'm certainly not going to sleep with someone else."

"I'm glad, on both fronts. If you do either it's a deal breaker, but I mean, just don't fucking give in so easy. You're not going to be happy without sex."

"I'll be happy," I assure him.

"I won't be happy without sex."

"There's oral, baby," I suggest.

He almost smiles. "I know, but..."

"Butt," I say. He nods. I don't know what he's trying to say, but I know what I fear he's trying to say. "Edward, I can't..." I say despairingly. "If you are suggesting that I let you have pussy on the side—"

"Jesus, no," he says. "I don't cheat, Jasper. I wouldn't do that shit to you."

"Okay, good. I don't know why we're even talking about sex, though. Sex is the farthest thing from my mind."

"Liar," he challenges with a smirk.

"Shit, fine, sex is obviously on the forefront of my brain just like every other male in the country.  _But_ , it's not why I want to be with you. It's how it started for me, yes, but things changed for me in a big way, Edward, even before the fight. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and I don't want to screw it up with sex, especially considering you're kind of a virgin. I want a relationship with you, I mean, if you want to be a relationship with me. Fuck, I'm not like just some experimental thing for you, am I?"

"No, of course not," he says. "What else would I be doing here if I didn't want the whole relationship thing? I want to be your boyfriend."

I can't help but sigh and smile about that. "I want to be your boyfriend too."

"Great," he says with a grin. "Can we eat now? I'm fucking starving, it's like one o'clock."

"Seriously?"

He nods. "You slept like half of the fucking day. I've already been to class and shit this morning and worked out. Lazy ass."

I scoff jokingly. "Don't forget the part about making out with your brand new boyfriend."

He snorts and rolls his eyes at me. Then his expression turns playful and he pulls me to him. "You're going to have to refresh my memory on that one."

"I think I can do that."

–

The next two weeks is filled with kisses and stolen glances and late night phone calls. Some days are frustrating because he's in a bad mood, but I'm able to deal with him the same way I always have. My ignoring him works even better now because he doesn't hide the fact that he wants to be with me. He's just as desperate to be with me as I am to be with him, in private at least.

Jessica remains the only person who  _knows_ but I'll gladly give him time. We spend a lot of time together, and in private, he's always touching me or kissing me. In public, well, he spends a lot of his time glaring at people, but that isn't really that unusual for him.

He took me out for supper last night, which was interesting. He insisted on holding my hand in public when I told him he didn't have to.

" _Business or pleasure?" the hostess asked curiously as she showed us to our seats._

" _I'm holding his fucking hand. Do most business associates come in here holding hands?" Edward asked rudely._

 _I shot him a glare and squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry," I apologized to her, "it's our first public date. He's a little nervous."_

 _She offered a gracious smile. "I understand."_

" _Really? You're a lesbian?"_

 _I pulled Edward to a halt and forced him to face me. "Knock it off," I warned him. He pouted his bottom lip out, and I huffed at him. "Edward, I'm serious. You either stop being an asshole or I go home."_

" _Fine," he groaned._

 _He surprised me by leaning in and pecking me on the lips. No one was really paying attention besides the hostess, but still, shit, he kissed me in public! He turned to the woman and offered her a sincere apology._

 _We took our seats and Edward continued to hold my hand on top of the table. Our waiter showed up fairly quickly, and he was a fucking prick._

 _He was short with us and he barely came back to our table at all, and it pissed Edward off._

 _"I want a new fucking server," he hissed to me. I offered him a tight smile._

 _It was pretty fucking obvious that the server was being prejudiced against us, because we could see him clear as day being Mr. Proper fucking Manners two tables over with a 'conventional' couple._

 _When we were finished with our meal and the waiter brought our check, dropping it on the table without a word, Edward lost his temper._

" _Do you have a fucking problem?" he asked the man._

" _No, sir," he replied, obviously through gritted teeth._

" _Really? Because I think you have a fucking problem," Edward said pushing the sleeves of his shirt up his arms._

" _Edward, just let it go," I pleaded._

" _Am I not allowed to bring my_ boyfriend  _out to dinner? Is that your fucking problem?" Edward demanded._

" _No, sir," he repeated, once again, not sounding very honest._

" _That's not your problem? What is it then, hmm? Are you jealous that you aren't the one here with my boyfriend?"_

 _The waiter clenched his fists and looked ready to fucking wail on Edward. I spotted the hostess that showed us in a few tables over and she caught my eye, a look of alarm flashing across her face once she realized there was a situation. She quickly came over and ushered the waiter off, offering us a complimentary meal._

" _Don't want your prejudiced fucking charity. Think you can shut me up with a free fucking meal. Gonna fucking sue this place," he rambled on and on, mostly to himself._

" _Edward," I interrupted him. "This is how it is. People are assholes, you just have to learn to ignore it. I know he offended you but—"_

" _Offended me? Are you fucking kidding? He ruined our first date!"_

Edward continued to be in a bad mood the rest of the night. He ranted and raved about injustice and life not being fair and basically everything else he couldn't change. It was sweet, especially considering the way he kissed me goodnight and told me how fucking sorry he was that he let that asshole ruin our night together.

I wanted to give him a blowjob for being so fucking adorable.

I didn't though. He left me at my doorstep and we slept across town from each other, like we normally did. Sometimes I would spend the night in one of the many Cullen beds, but never his.

Tonight, I insist we just order pizza in and he lets me. The food goes quickly and like usual, the conversation is effortless. There are many laughs and some kisses, and at one point he sucks marinara sauce off of my finger and I nearly explode.

I tell him I should go and he kisses me and makes fun of my garlic breath and I shove him away, just so he'll come crawling back to me. He does, of course, and he kisses me more, and more, and more. He also does his new favorite thing, which is teasing my nipples though my shirt, because he's just discovered that I get a little vocal when he does so.

He's trying to fight a smile while I'm trying to stifle my sighs and whimpers as he continues to lightly tease me. Neither of is succeeding and he ends up laughing into my mouth which ruins the mood a little bit. But only a little bit—laughing is good, it means he's comfortable. I just don't like that he's laughing at me.

"I have to go," I insist. I stand up, only to be pulled right back down.

"No you don't," he contends.

"I do. I need to take a shower and sleep, you know, human stuff."

"For the millionth time, there are like seven different showers here, find your favorite. And you can sleep here, damn it. I don't have any classes or work tomorrow, so please, just stay so I can see you right away in the morning?"

That's how I ended up in Edward's bedroom in nothing but a towel and a blush. He is currently searching for a pair of his underwear for me to wear. His hair is dripping wet from his own recent shower and he's only wearing a pair of boxer-briefs. I really want to just drop the towel.

"Here," he says.

I take the underwear from him, only to discover they are a pair of black Emporio Armani trunks. I might as well just drop the damn towel for all they are going to leave to the imagination. Edward smirks when I roll my eyes and start walking to his bathroom to change.

"Is this toothbrush for me?" I ask. There is one sitting on the counter, and one in his toothbrush holder.

"Yes," he answers. "Use lots of toothpaste, your mouth tastes like an old piece of pizza."

"Such a charmer," I mumble to myself, then grin because I can't even believe how much I fucking love him. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and try to squash the smile by shoving the toothbrush in my mouth. It doesn't work.

I drop my towel into his laundry basket and check myself out in his mirror while I brush my teeth. I'm looking pretty tan because of the amount of time I spend in his pool or just lounging in the sun with him, and we spend a couple hours a week working out together, so I'm looking pretty fucking fit too. I've just man-scaped in case anything were to progress with us, so I'm good in the sex tool department as well. My dick is semi-hard, as it seems to be majority of the time I'm around Edward. When I'm not sporting a semi, I'm sporting a fucking raging hard-on. I'm always trying to fucking hide my boners these days, but Edward seems to have a sixth sense and  _knows_ every time I get a fucking woody. He's always  _right there_  as soon as I'm hard and while I'm desperately trying not to rub my cock all over him like an oversexed, horny bastard—though I am an oversexed, horny bastard. He's doing everything in his fucking power to drive me crazy.

The nipple rubs, the fingers trailing down my back, the way he just fucking  _moans_  when I lick that spot on his neck.

 _Oh, well, hello there, Mr. Hard Cock, I haven't seen you in a whole ten minutes._

I swear, the only reason I haven't developed the world's worst medical case of blue balls is because I masturbate practically religiously.

I sigh and pull the underwear that Edward gave me on, groaning when I actually have to stuff my dick into them. He better enjoy the show.

I catch Edward with his hand in his hair when I open the door and immediately freeze; I know damn well that he only does that when he's nervous. He pretends not to notice, or he just doesn't notice, and he walks over to me, his lips pursed in a slightly amused way. Or smug. Probably smug. Bastard.

He is still only wearing underwear and I want so badly just to touch. Everywhere. His perfect fucking shoulders, and his sexy as fuck chest, his adorable, little pink nipples, every hill and valley of his defined abs, his cute bellybutton, and definitely,  _definitely_ the hot—oh my fucking God— _hot_ come gutters. Seriously, no one should get a 'V' so fucking perfect.

I follow his thin happy trail with my eyes and it leads right to the treasure—gold never looked so good. He's hard and straining against the tight material of his boxer-briefs and I very nearly moan at the sight.

Edward doesn't stop until he's pressed right up against me. He kisses me quite aggressively, demanding tongue almost immediately. I'm rewarded with a moan when I allow him entrance. He pulls back with a smile.

"Much better," he says.

I shake my head at him and lean in to peck his lips. "Goodnight," I say.

"Un-mm," he replies, pulling me in for another kiss.

While he's kissing me, he starts to walk backwards, bringing me with him. When we near his bed, he pulls away from me. He grabs his comforter and throws it back.

"In," he demands.

"What?" I ask. "Edward..."

He raises his eyebrows. "In," he repeats firmly.

Fine. I crawl into his bed, all the way over to the opposite side than what he's offered to me and he jumps in after me. He turns off the lamp by the bed and whispers, "Goodnight."

"Night," I whisper back.

It takes me a long time to even relax enough to close my eyes, but even with my eyes closed, I can't fall asleep. All I can hear is Edward's quiet breathing and all I can think about is the fact that he's in the same bed as me. Both of us are basically naked, in bed. I think I'm going to have a panic attack.

About an hour after he turned the lights off, I hear him whisper, "You awake?"

"Yeah," I reply.

The light flips back on, and it's blindingly bright. I can't see much besides white for a few seconds while my eyes adjust, and by the time they do, Edward is hovering over me. He lowers his mouth to mine and I moan right off the bat.

Christ, I'm wound tight.

His mouth presses harder against mine, his tongue teasing along my lips. His hand starts on my shoulder and quickly moves down my arm, then back up the inside, stopping where his thumb can circle my nipple. Which he does. And I moan into his mouth. Then he slides his whole palm over my pec, and I moan louder.

His mouth breaks away. "Don't you dare fucking laugh at me," I warn.

He does so regardless. I snap my eyes open to glare, but the glare stops dead when I find his eyes. They are dark, and so, so green. Wanting, and happy, and lust.

I grab his hair and pull him back to my mouth, more frantic now than I really should be, for his sake. I'm not supposed to be pushing, but he's driving me crazy.

My tongue pushes and swirls with his and his fingers never stop teasing my fucking nipples. I feel him start to shift and I think he's going to pull away, so I move my hands to let him, but he doesn't. He fucking moves closer. Way closer. He fucking moves right on top of me. I can fucking feel his cock. With my cock. They're touching. Really meeting for the first time. And I'd be lying if I said my cock wasn't the happiest fucking cock on the block.

It feels so fucking good, I shove my hips up, wanting more, and getting it with the friction of our cocks rubbing together through our underwear. I moan into his mouth and pull him closer, never wanting this to stop, and wanting more at the same time. He pinches my nipple and I thrust up into him again, this time catching his moan with my lips.

Oh, fucking God. It feels so good. Well, not really, because it's dry humping and the stupid fabric of the underwear is rough and I'd prefer skin, but I'm not complaining. It still feels so fucking good.

One of my hands slides down from Edward's hair to press into his lower back, bringing him even closer to me. I rock and he shifts and we both slide, making friction, and we moan together. He shifts again and I rock and the rhythm clicks. Soon, we're both shifting and rocking without pause, moaning, humping, grinding, and getting right where we fucking want to be. He gives and I take, and I want more. I move my hand just a little lower and press just a little harder and he gives, grinding into me. I'm shaking and panting, and I can't take much more, I'm not going to last at all.

It's Edward, he's fucking me right now. It's only dry humping, but it's just like fucking. We move together, we both get pleasure. Oh my God.

I have to break away from his mouth to moan. I can't breathe. I push my head back and this guttural fucking groan comes out of my mouth and I'm almost embarrassed, but he's humping me harder and making more sound than I am.

"So fucking close," he grunts.

"Oh God, I'm gonna come," I moan.

His mouth moves to my neck and he bites down lightly, moaning into my skin. His perfect rhythm breaks and I shove my hand into his back, pressing hard because I can't think straight enough right now to realize that it probably hurts.

Through the thin material separating us, I feel him twitch and he bites down on my neck. His hips start to jerk and I fucking lose it, because I fucking know he's cumming right now. And oh my fucking God, he's cumming.

"Edward," I call.

My body arches up into his, so hard I think I'm lifting both of us off of the bed. I chant his name like a fucking idiot, but I can't care, not when I can feel the wet seeping through his underwear and into mine. My cock is sliding against his as we both continue clumsily pushing into each other, it's just too fucking much.

The orgasm seems to last forever, and the blink of an eye at the same time. It's fucking intense, more intense than I can remember an orgasm being—especially a fucking dry humping orgasm.

But it's Edward, everything is more intense with Edward. The sky is more blue, kissing is more fun, orgasms are... fucking indefinable.

"Holy shit," I moan once my hips stop rocking.

I collapse into the bed with a sigh and Edward breaths heavily from atop me.

"Jasp-uhhn."

I laugh and roll us over, fucking delirious on the orgasm high. I kiss him like nothing else at all fucking matters, and in that moment, it doesn't.


	6. Chapter 6

I can feel Edward's breath starting to even out against my neck and he keeps kissing my jaw, like he's trying to keep himself awake or something. Or keep me awake, I don't know. I'm tired and my brain is slow, heavy with ecstasy and sleepiness. I'm ready to tell him that I love him, but I don't think he's ready to hear it, so I just mouth the words into his hair and drag gentle fingers over his spine.

He falls asleep just before I do, his nose pressed right up against my throat and his breath tickling warmly across my skin. I can feel the uncomfortable residue of our climax starting to dry against our heated skin, but I do my best to ignore it, because if I move, he's going to wake up. I don't want to wake him for something so trivial when a shower can fix it in the morning. Plus, it's sort of hot that his spunk is drying on me. Or I can make myself believe it's hot as long as I tell myself it's his—really I know it's mine, but whatever.

I bury my nose into his wild hair and inhale, telling myself to just shut up and sleep. Sleep with Edward.

We fall asleep in each other's arms, and I for one sleep like the fucking dead. My stupid phone blaring wakes us both up. We're still wrapped around each other, and he's drooling on me a little bit, but I don't care. My arm is numb and I realize a little belatedly that my hand is shoved down the back of his underwear.

Oops.

His eyes widen comically when I pull it out and I apologize gruffly.

"Can you get my phone?" I mumble. It's closer to him and I can't reach it without climbing over him, which I'm more than willing to do, but it's almost at voicemail, which I tell him.

He rolls and fumbles for my phone, flipping it open and bringing it to his ear. "Hello?" he answers, rolling back toward me.

I sigh and half-roll on top of him, offering my hand so he can give me my phone. But he tenses underneath me, and not in a good way.

"Who the fuck is this?" he demands, then slaps my hand away.

"Edward, give me my phone," I say.

I don't know who's on the line or what they're saying, but he looks fucking pissed, and he turns the glare on me the second I ask for my phone.

"Why are you fucking calling him?" he asks.

"Edward!" I say sharply, reaching for my phone, but he slaps me away again.

I change my position and sit up so I can get my phone away from him, but he twists away. I grab his hip and push him back down, then quickly straddle his legs to keep him there. I lean forward and grab his arm, but he grabs my wrist in turn.

"Give me my phone," I tell him, looking him right in the eye.

He stares back, a tight set to his lips. "That's none of your fucking business," he growls menacingly into the phone.

I sigh and release his arm. He's not going to give me my fucking phone. Defeated, I sit down against him and bite my lip when I realize that my ass is right on his cock. And that he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, I'd be willing to bet that he doesn't mind at all. I shift a little and his eyes narrow at me.

Then he loses all interest in what I'm doing and starts yelling into the phone. "Why should I believe you? I do trust him," he says defensively. "Yes, I do. It's you I don't trust." He laughs bitterly, then his eyes snap away from mine and he's staring at my bellybutton and breathing heavy. "Fuck you. You're the one who stole fucking pictures of me that weren't yours to have and used them to manipulate him." His jaw tightens and his eyes grow dark. "Fuck you," he snaps. "You're the goddamn manipulative bastard. You took advantage of him."

I'm getting more uneasy with each word that Edward says, and the fact that he won't look me in the eye. I've figured out by now that it's Emmett on the phone, and I don't know where this is leading or what he's saying to piss Edward off. It's frustrating and making my stomach ache.

"Here," Edward says, shoving the phone at me.

I cautiously take it and say 'hello'. "That went well," Emmett grumbles into my ear.

"What'd you expect? Neither of us are exactly your biggest fan right now," I tell him.

I move to get off of Edward, but he catches me by the hips before I can. His face is a mess of emotions and he's staring at my stomach. I don't know what to do. I can see that he's ashamed of something, and there's sadness there, and questions. Questions that weren't there before. I don't know what the hell Emmett said to him, but there is doubt in his eyes and he can't look at me, and it's breaking my fucking heart.

I lean down and get right in his face, but he still avoids my eyes by closing his. I turn the mouthpiece away and gently say Edward's name.

His eyes open slowly, and I can see he's worried. I don't want him to be. Whatever it is that's bothering him, I want to make it disappear. I kiss him, wishing that I could kiss it better, but doubting I can. I just hope he isn't regretting last night.

I don't feel any regret when he kisses me back, just longing, and an apology. I feel like he's apologizing without saying a word and I want to know what he's sorry for. He kisses me 'til I get distracted by Emmett yelling in my ear.

"Hello? Are you there? Are you even fucking listening to me?"

I pull back from Edward and ask Emmett, "What?" rather sharply.

"I asked how long you two have been sleeping together."

"How the fuck is that any of your business?"

"Just wondered. I also asked if we could talk."

"About what?"

"I don't know, life maybe. I thought we were friends. We can't hang out now because we kissed or what?"

"No, we can't hang out because you're annoying. And that kiss meant nothing and you know it."

Edward's eyes narrow and I feel him watching me closely. I squirm under his scrutiny and absently start toying with the hair of his happy trail. He gets fully hard beneath me and I pretend not to notice—though I  _have definitely_ noticed—and I'm too distracted to hear a damn word Emmett is even saying.

"Okay, Jasper?" he practically yells.

"Okay," I sigh, having no idea what I'm agreeing to.

"Bye."

I close the phone and toss it onto the nightstand again. I continue to drag my index finger through the hair below Edward's bellybutton and he sits up, kind of ruining the effect I had going.

"I'm sorry I never let you explain," he says quietly. His lips press phantom kisses to my collarbones, so light I can barely feel them.

"Explain what?" I ask, fighting to keep my eyelids open.

His mouth moves more determinedly and I close my eyes, letting my head fall back to give him free access to whatever the hell he's looking for.

"That whole Emmett," he growls his name like it's a curse word, his lips curling back and everything, "bullshit, I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to explain. I was... I was so fucking jealous, I can't even... It hurt."

His face is pressed up tight to my neck, so I can't see him. I lightly grip his hair to urge his head back but he resists until I actually make him move. "Baby, I'm so sorry I hurt you." He licks his lips and pulls me in for the make up kiss of the century. I definitely know I'm forgiven, but I pull back regardless to apologize some more.

But he beats me to it. "I'm sorry I hurt you too. Emmett," he growls again, "told me he'd never seen you so upset. I should have stayed and let you tell your side, but honestly, I probably would have kicked the shit out of  _him_  if I would have been there any longer."

I kiss him this time, to let him know that he is also forgiven. I get a little carried away and by the time I'm finished, his lips are red and swollen and he's breathing heavily. "I don't blame you for not stopping to listen. You had no reason to trust me. My intentions were impure and more than a little fucked up. I'm really sorry for that."

He smirks at me, his eyes glinting like they do when he's being naughty. It doesn't surprise me when he says, "So you wanted to fuck me, that's not that big of a crime."

"Maybe not, but it's still something I need you to know I'm sorry for. My intentions are much more sincere now."

"Mm," he hums. "You mean now you're being upfront and considering dating me before you fuck me." I feel the smile slide right off my face and he laughs. "Oh, come on, Jasper, I'm kidding."

I'm afraid he's not; I'm terrified that he thinks I'm just going to romance my way into his pants and leave when I've had what I wanted. I don't think he understands just how important he is to me.

"I don't care if you never want to have sex with me," I say as honestly as I possibly can. No, it's probably not the  _whole_ truth, but it's close enough. If it's a choice between being with Edward and never having sex or being without Edward and having sex with someone who I don't  _really_ love, then I'll pick Edward, time and time again. I love him, he's my choice, I'll need to purchase some sex toys... My mind flashes back to last night and I start to feel really fucking shitty. I pushed him too far, too fast. "I'm sorry if you regret last night, I shouldn't have pushed, it was too soon. We don't have to do it again."

"Jasper," he says, shaking his head at me. "I don't regret last night," he states firmly, "and you didn't fucking push me. I wanted it just as much as you did, so shut the fuck up about not doing it again. We're doing it again. Stop this 'no sex' bullshit, and stop putting words into my mouth, stop fucking assuming shit. I'm with you, we're together, we both screwed up, we're getting through it. Now shut up so we can continue what we're doing here."

"What are we doing here?" I wonder.

"I don't fucking know, making out?" he asks sarcastically.

"Okay. So, you want me?" I ask.

He pushes against me, revealing the proof that he's more than just a little turned on. "What do you fucking think?"

"I think I want to hear you say it," I tell him.

He growls and flips us over, pinning me to the bed. "Yes, I fucking want you."

He leans in to kiss me, and I hear my idiot mouth open again before he can. "Why?"

He groans. "I guess we're still fucking talking then," he says, moving to pull completely away from me.

I grab him and we both fall into a heap of tangled limbs on his bed. "We can do both," I assure him.

He laughs and shakes his head. "You're so caught between being a dude and chick," he jokes.

I bristle and he notices, hissing slightly as he leans into kiss me. I don't let him. "I'm a fucking man," I say gruffly.

He nods and kisses me, because I can't fucking resist him and his goddamn perfect, stupid lips. "I know, baby," he whispers.

He called me 'baby' and it makes me want to forget everything else, but I can't. "That really hurt my feelings," I tell him, between kisses.

His lips purse, still managing to quirk at the corners, and his nose crinkles just slightly—like is does when he's laughing. Goddamn him.

I once again pull away, but he really doesn't let me this time. He rolls on top of me and holds me down. "I'm sorry," he laughs and I start to struggle against him. "Jasper, come on, I'm not trying to piss you off or hurt your feelings, or whatever, just listen to me!" I huff and stop fighting him, but I don't stop glaring. "I know you're a man, but you act like such a girl sometimes, I'm not saying it's a bad thing. It's so fucking cute."

I try not to sigh, and fail miserably. "You just called me cute."

He rolls his eyes at me and lets go of my wrists, only to push his hands into mine and continue to pin me to the bed that way. "I did," he confirms.

He leans down and kisses me some more, and before long, the stupid little question is gnawing at my brain again. I squeeze his hands, but he just deepens the kiss when I do. I have to turn my head to break the kiss, but still he just continues to kiss down to my neck. Fuck.

"Edward," I breathe. He sucks and nibbles at my Adam's apple and my eyes roll back. "Edward, stop."

He pulls away with a groan and looks down on me. I immediately regret asking him to stop, because I can see it clear as day on his face that he didn't want to. His eyes are dark and he looks a little pissed at me for being a tease.

"Tell me why you want me."

He sits up and I'm afraid he's going to pull away so I sit up too. I wrap my arms around his hips and he slides down into my lap, and I'm going to try to keep him there. His eyes linger down and I follow his stare. Both of us are still in our crusty underwear from last night, the stains are kind of obvious, but even more evident is the fact that we're both clearly horny, and I'm insisting that we talk. Christ, he's right, I am a girl.

"I don't know, Jasper," he whispers. I look up to his face and he's looking a bit conflicted. "That's like asking me why the sky is blue or the grass is green, I don't fucking know. I just do, I don't know why. You're the best friend I've ever had, and I just happen to find you incredibly attractive."

"Are you settling?" I ask him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that it's pretty fucking obvious that I'm not what you ever imagined yourself being with, so I want to know if you're settling because you think you have to."

He shakes his head. "No, Jasper. You're right, I never even considered the possibility that I would someday be attracted to a man, and ideally I imagined myself with a woman. But that doesn't matter to me, you're who I want  _now_. I don't feel like I'm somehow obligated to be with you, it's not something I just want to try because I can. As for being with you because 'I think I have to', I don't  _think_ I have to, I _know_  I have to, I've never felt the way I feel for you with anyone else. I don't know how it happened or why, it just did, and I'm fucking glad it did. Like I said, best friend, who is also super hot, and the best thing that ever happened to me, I don't think that's settling.

"There, I spilled my fucking guts, are you done asking questions?"

"For now," I allow.

He rolls his eyes at me but he's smiling, so I know he's not as annoyed as he's pretending to be. I fall back into the bed, bringing him with me and he presses one lingering kiss to my lips, then gets up on his hands and knees, hovering over me like a predator.

"I'm going to go take a shower," he says.

I place my hands on his ribs to stop him. "Just a minute," I mutter.

I've never really been a submissive type of person, especially not in bed, but the thought of being Edward's 'prey' seriously gets me all hot and bothered. The view I'm getting of him perched over me is really fucking sexy. I pull my legs out from under him and raise them to either side of his hips, and it completes the picture perfectly. No, not perfectly. Perfect would mean we were both naked, but this, this is seriously good too.

"Take a fucking picture," he says.

"Can I?" I ask.

He starts laughing and I slowly realize that he was kidding. It's official, I'm so horny that I can't think straight. "Yeah, just let me take one first."

I think he's kidding, but then he sits down, right on top of my exceptionally hard dick. He braces his hand on my stomach and swivels to reach his phone, which makes his ass press harder into my erection and he's kind of moving against it, and I'm desperately trying to stay still and not moan.

He swings back around and places his phone on my stomach and his hands on my chest. He pushes on my chest a little then nods. "There, perfect," he says.

I cock my head and look down to find that he's created just the slightest indent between my 'tits'. There's the smallest little 'V', the barest hint of cleavage I've ever seen. I draw my hand back and smack him on the side.

He smiles down at me and I just know he's going to crack a fucking joke. "I wasn't kidding when I said you have great tits."

"Thanks, yours are great too."

He nods. "I know. I think yours are bigger though."

"Yours is bigger," I say, changing the topic from nonexistent tits to cock, and hoping he'll catch on.

I'm pretty sure he does because he blushes. I want to laugh at him, as payback, but I can't. He's too fucking adorable when he blushes; his ears get all red at the top and he looks so shy and innocent. His mouth always ruins the thought of him being innocent though. "Yours is pretty fucking big too."

"I know," I say.

"I going to shower now," he states.

"'Kay, have fun," I reply.

He gets this secretive little smirk and I roll my eyes. There's really no secret to it at all, I am a man. I know what that bottle of body wash in the corner is used for, and it's not to make sure you smell pretty.

"Oh, hey, wait," I call. He stops and turns back towards me, his eyebrows raised. "Are you expecting me to walk around naked all day?" I ask.

His face reddens slightly and he shakes his head. "No, I forgot that you'd need clothes," he replies, and it's a bald-faced fucking lie, his red face totally gave him away. He remembered I wouldn't have anything to wear, and he was trying to get me in nothing but a towel again.

"You little shit," I laugh incredulously.

The red hue in his face darkens and he grumbles, "So I enjoyed the view, fucking sue me."

He has to walk past the bed to get to his closet and I reach out and grab what I can reach, which just happens to be the back of his underwear. He jumps and clutches at them, but it's kind of useless because his crack is already half hanging out.

Whoopsy.

"So I'm enjoying the view, fucking kiss me," I challenge.

He doesn't disappoint. He comes back to me and I push myself up on my hands, anticipating the 'Spiderman' kiss I'm going to get right about—I grab his hair with one hand and force his lips down to mine—now. I part my lips and press my tongue to his mouth,  _begging_ for entry. I moan when his tongue slides along mine.

It's almost ridiculous that I can even get turned on any further, but it's Edward. Edward makes my cock hurt—in the best way possible. God, I fucking want him.

"Want you so fucking much," I mumble against his lips.

He stands up straight and I continue to look up at him from the upside down point of view. "Could have had me, Jasper, but you just wanted to talk."

I sigh and fall back into the bed, putting my eyes at eye level with his cock if I lean my head back.

"Huh," I muse, eying his package.

"What?" Edward asks.

I tilt my head to the side slightly. "Oh, nothing, I just never realized what a good position this would be for a blowjob."

I smirk when I see him throb in his shorts. It strikes me that now is a good time as any for getting what I want. He's too horny to stop me, and I'm too horny to care about anything else.

I roll over and push up off of the bed. He takes a step back when I place my feet on the floor in front of him and takes another step back when I move to step closer. He continues to mirror me step for step until he can't anymore and his back is against the wall. I take the last step, putting my body in perfect alignment with his.

"I think you'll still let me have you, won't you, baby?"

"I don't know," he starts. I press my hips forward, grinding into his cock with mine, and his breath catches. "I have to shower," he mumbles.

"Mm, you can shower, but why don't you  _finish_  here first?" I ask, putting emphasis on the 'finish', adding more emphasis with a slow, teasing grind.

"Maybe," he says.

"Maybe?" I ask, pulling away just slightly.

"No, wait. I mean, yes, it... The shower can wait. Don't stop."

"I won't," I promise.

He moans quietly as I start up a deliberate grind. He doesn't bother closing his mouth after the moan and more little noises follow between his heavy breaths. He widens his stance and I step between his legs, pressing into him harder, which earns a gasp and a lip bite.

"Do you like that?" I ask.

His eyes open and he blushes a little when he answers with a deep, "Yes."

His hands move to my hips and he tries to pull me to him harder and faster. I grab his wrists and drag his hands away, twining our fingers together. I continue the slow rocking I had going before.

"You're just hell bent on teasing me," he accuses breathlessly.

"You love it," I contest.

He doesn't deny it, I knew he wouldn't. The frustration had been a slow, building burn all morning, and even if a fast, hard hump against the wall would have gotten him off well enough, my bar is set above 'well enough'. I want him to remember the morning after the first time we slept together as being even better than the night before. I never want him to forget how good I make him feel.

"Do you have any idea how sexy you are?" I whisper. He moans softly, so I decide to tell him. "It's like you were made for me, everything I've ever wanted. It's not just your body, though that is definitely better than I could have even imagined, but God, your mind, and your dirty mouth. I never even knew it was possible to be attracted to the way someone talks, but I swear every time you string a curse together, my toes curl. Speaking of your mouth, you have to most ridiculously delicious lips. You can't even begin to imagine what I've thought about doing with those lips."

It pleases me when he jerks against me, I didn't know how much he'd like me talking but he seems to be getting increasingly closer, which was my goal. "I've imagined a lot of things, but I think what I look forward to doing most is probably licking you." I pull one hand away from his and lightly trail it up his arm. "I've already licked one places I wanted to," I say, dragging my fingers over the side of his throat. "You taste good there, but I want to know what you taste like here too," I continue, sliding my hand down over his chest. I circle his nipple and it stiffens, making it impossible to resist touching it. He sighs and I continue touching him lower. "I want to lick every single inch of these." His abs tighten under my fingers and I feel a shudder run though his body. "But most of all, I want to lick you here," I say, circling my fingers over the indent of his 'V'.

His head tosses back, hitting the wall with a soft thud. "Oh, fuck," he moans.

I feel him tense and I move my fingers just a little closer to where I think he may want them. "I think you know what else I want to taste, what I want in my mouth," I tease.

He inhales and holds the breath. My pace has increased considerably and still he's trying to push me faster with quick thrusts of his own hips.

"Tell me," I whisper when I realize that he's still holding his breath.

"More," he gasps. "Harder."

I give him what he wants, pressing forward with heavy pressure.

"Yes," he moans. His body quakes and I feel him tensing up further, he's close, so fucking close. His eyes pop open unexpectedly, and he whispers my name. His hand in mine clenches, and his free hand moves to my hair. He pulls me forward and kisses me deeply, then pulls away with a moan.

His hips jerk and I feel the tell-tale throb, I just wish I could see his feet, because I know his toes are curling into the carpet right now.

"Oh, fuck," he draws out.

I move my arm to brace my hand against the wall because I'm right there, and his cum face is coming out hardcore right now, and watching it much longer is going fucking push me off the edge. He presses his mouth against my arm immediately and kind of tucks his nose down into it. I slide my arm around his neck and pull him down into my shoulder, and it seems to be just what he needs. The soft and slow start seemed to make this all so much more intimate, he was straddling the precipice for so long, but bringing him in close to me...

He cries my name into my shoulder and his knees shake as warmth floods between our bellies. I clutch at his shoulder as my orgasm threatens. I hold off just long enough to feel him sob with pleasure against my shoulder and I push myself to him hard, using the side of his neck to muffle any sound I make.

I want this to be his, for him to know how much I want to give him. I want to give him his pleasure, and mine too. It's all for him, every ounce of love and passion and desire I feel. I'll give him everything I have, and when I take, I'll give it right back. Everything, for him and only him.

Edward gives one final shudder before his weight sinks into me. He's kind of heavy on my orgasm-weakened body so I push him back against the wall and lean into him. He hisses and trembles violently when there is again pressure between myself and his cock.

"Jesus Christ," he whimpers into my shoulder.

"Shh," I soothe, squeezing his hand that is still in mine and with my free fingers, trail a gentle path along his ribs.

He tenses and quakes again, though definitely not as forcefully. I wish we were lying in his bed now and my lips were around his aching cock. Nothing makes me hotter than watching my man squirm with torturous pleasure. Given the right circumstances, I know I could have gotten him off again pretty quickly after an orgasm that left him so sensitive.

It takes a while, but he eventually regains some lucidity. It's not much, apparently, because when he pushes me back enough to look between us, he bursts into a fit of giggles. If he weren't so fucking cute, I'd slap him for ruining a potentially tender moment between us. Nevertheless, he's fucking laughing his adorable little ass off, and I just want to hug him.

"I don't know what's so funny," I grumble.

He bites his lip, stifling his laughter, but it only works for about two seconds. He looks down again, snorts, and the laughing restarts.

"I  _really_ hope you're not laughing at  _my_ cum stain, because if you are, then I would have to point out that  _you_ have one too, about twice the size actually."

He quickly shuts up and looks down at his own crotch. We're both looking sticky from the bellybutton down, which I believe was  _his_ doing. I think I'd somehow failed to realize that he had popped out of the top of his underwear at some point during his orgasm—damn it, how did I miss that? I think it was early on, because I do remember feeling his cum on my skin. Evidently he'd slipped back into the shorts though, because those were suffering some seriously hot looking stains.

"I don't get what was so fucking funny," I mutter, perhaps defensively. I guess it could be an 'acquired taste' so to speak. Maybe he's just feeling uncomfortable.

"I wasn't laughing at you, I promise," he says. Sliding his hands up my arms he pulls me in for a kiss. "I was just thinking that I hadn't busted a nut in my underwear since I was in high school. I guess this really is like starting all over for me. I'm a born-again virgin."

"Technically, you hadn't busted a nut in your underwear since last night."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever, you knew what I fucking meant. I can't believe I slept with my underwear like this."

"Guess I wore you out," I brag.

He laughs. "I did all the fucking work, I wore myself out."

"Mm, okay.  _You_ did all the work then, and wore us both out. How am I ever going to repay you?" I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss the end of his nose. "Oh, wait..." I add, smirking at him.

He chuckles. "You were louder last night," he muses. "I think you enjoyed it more when I was doing the hard part."

"Caught me, I'm a lazy lover. I prefer just to lie there while you do the dirty work," I joke. His expression changes slightly, some of the amusement leaving. "Hey, I'm just kidding. I'm actually a very active lover," I assure him.

His face reddens and his eyes move to my mouth. I feel his hand twitch—his 'hair hand', as I like to call it, since it's always the one that goes there—against my shoulder, and I think he's getting nervous about something. I think back to what he said, and grasp what he'd been looking for and I hadn't told him.

"Baby, last night was great for me, and so was this morning. Don't you worry."

I actually hear him swallow before he asks, "Are you sure?"

I smile a little and lean down so I can meet his eyes. "Yes, of course I'm sure."

"Okay," he breathes. "Both times were great for me too."

"I know."

He narrows his eyes at me. "Cocky bastard."

I just shrug. "Go find me some clothes to wear so we can get out of these sticky undies and shower before they start drying to us again."

He snickers and pulls away to walk into the closet. "You know, these were my favorite underwear."

"Were?" I ask. "You mean you're never going to wear them again? I guess the way I see it, they are now your  _lucky_  favorite underwear."

"Dude, I can't wear them if they're all crusty."

"Um, wash them?"

"Jess does my laundry, I'm not exactly sure I want her privy to this type of thing." I can almost hear the blush in his voice when he answers.

I roll my eyes. He's so fucking spoiled he doesn't even know how to run a washing machine. I'll be remedying that one. "Give them to me," I sigh.

"You don't have to," he says in this voice that screams, 'You do have to, because they're my favorite, and I'm a spoiled little shit'.

"It's fine, I'll take care of it." About ten seconds later he's shoving the underwear around the side of the door, dangling them off of his finger. "Well, that is about twenty times less sexy than I was hoping for."

I hear him huff and he pulls his hand back inside. The half-closed door gets kicked open and Edward stands there clutching a pair of board shorts in front of his junk. It doesn't really hide everything. I kind of want to get down on my knees and introduce myself.

 _Hello there, Pubic Hair. You're very tame for being part of a man who probably hasn't even heard of 'man-scaping'. It's nice to meet you, we're going to be great friends. Some day my nose is going to be nestled right up against you, and I would greatly appreciate it if you wouldn't decide to detach yourself from that smoking hot body just to get inside my mouth. It's really annoying trying to keep a blowjob hot when I have to dig one of you little bastards out of my throat. My name? Oh, it's—_

"Jasper! My eyes are up here!"

"What?"

"Oh, my God! You are such a pervert!"

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," I challenge with a grin.

He looks like he wants to throw something at me, but his only option is either the board shorts he's using to hide his man meat, or the dirty underwear and another pair of board shorts, that are presumably for me. I'm willing to bet that he knows throwing dirty underwear at me is going to lose the effect he's going for.

"Stop smiling at me like a pedophile and go take a shower."

"Only if you kiss me first," I dare.

He sighs and rolls his eyes, but he honestly doesn't look all that put out. He starts to kind of shuffle towards me and I take pity on him, since he obviously doesn't want to show me his yet, and I go most of the way to him.

"That's a nice tent you have there, do you like what you see?" he whispers, but doesn't give me a chance to respond.

He kisses me and I'm hard-pressed to just stand there. I want to shove that so easily movable barrier out of my way and feel his naked cock all over me. But he's not ready, and that's what I need to be focusing on. No pushing, I can be patient, I care for him too much to scare him off.

–

After we both finished showering—separately—and I started the wash, we high-tailed it for the kitchen. Eggs and the works sounded delicious, but we were both so fucking hungry that we ended up eating cold pizza instead.

There was a knock on the door just after we finished eating, but Edward insisted we ignore it.

His words: "It's probably those fucking bible salesmen, so unless you want to go make out in front of them so they banish us to Hell, just fucking ignore it. They'll go away. And if they don't go away, then it's probably Jessica 'cause she 'forgot' her key again, in which case, she can wait until I feel like answering the door."

He forcefully shoves me onto the couch then fucking climbs right on top of me. Jesus, he's not really so shy. It's so fucking hot.

I can't concentrate on making out with him worth a shit though because the continuous knocking is annoying the fuck out of me. It stops completely and I turn my head, breaking Edward's kiss, and stare at the door. Sure enough, it comes back full force.

"Are you really going to fucking pick letting Jessica in over making out with me? You know damn well all the fun stuff is going to end the minute she's in here."

Shit, he's right. She can wait a few more minutes. I grasp his face between my hands and pull him to me for another kiss.

I've never made out so much in my life as I have in the past couple weeks with Edward. I never want to stop kissing him, I'm still a little shocked that he let me start in the first place. His mouth is so fucking talented, he's going to give the best fucking head ever when we make it that far. His lips are so fucking soft. And he loves to use his teeth, almost as much as I love when he uses them.

The banging on the door grows louder and I turn my head again.

Edward groans and grabs my hair, making me turn my face back to him. "Fucking ignore it." He leans in and kisses me, or tries to, but I remain tight-lipped. He bites my lower lip and it almost works—almost.

But the banging gets even louder.

"There is no way in fuck that is Jessica," I tell him. "It's been like ten minutes, she would have broken her tiny little hand by now."

"Who fucking cares—"

"I do. What if it's important?"

"Anyone important enough to be let in has a key, except you, and you're already here, so just fucking ignore it."

"I can't."

His jaw clenches and he moves off of me, sitting on the opposite end of the couch and refusing to look at me while I go to answer the fucking door myself.

I should have known listening to Edward would have been the good idea. I should have known I'd regret answering to knocking so annoying it could only be one person.

"Jesus Christ, about fucking time," Emmett yells at me when I open the door.

I try to block him from coming in, but he just shoves his way through.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I ask.

"You invited me," he states.

"What the fuck do you mean he invited you?" Edward demands.

"I didn't invite him," I declare honestly to Edward. "I did not invite you," I yell at Emmett.

There is a bunch of yelling over each other and a few times when I think Edward is either going to hit me or Emmett, or both of us, but eventually it all calms down. Emmett, the fucking retard, took complete advantage of the situation, as usual, and was using my 'okay' agreement as his invitation, knowing damn well I had no idea what he had said. Edward begrudgingly believed me, because he knew the circumstances and how Emmett was, but he looked really fucking pissed about it. Emmett refused to leave and is currently sitting on the couch where Edward and I were previously making out, acting like he is welcome.

"How the fuck did you even know where he lives?" I ask.

Emmett rolls his eyes. "Everyone knows where Edward lives."

"On the contrary, I had no idea where Edward lived when I met him."

Again, Emmett rolls his eyes, and unlike when Edward does it, I want to punch him in the fucking face. "That's because you're an idiot, Jasper."

"Don't fucking call him an idiot again unless you want to eat your teeth," Edward snaps at him.

I tighten my hold on Edward's hand, afraid he's going to unexpectedly freak out and bash on Emmett's face or leave, or something.

"Wow, he really converted you, didn't he? Here I thought his rumored blowjob skills were just folklore. Knew I should have asked for more than a kiss," Emmett says.

I let go of Edward's hand, changing my tune. I now  _want_ him to go bash in Emmett's face. But he doesn't, though he looks like he's getting ready to.

"Just let me know if it doesn't work out with Jasper, okay, Edward?"

"In your fucking dreams," Edward growls.

"Same with you, Jazzy, I still want you, baby."

Edward launches off of the couch faster than either of us expect.

–

Fifteen minutes later, we're all back to where we were sitting before. Emmett with a bottle of beer pressed against his newly busted nose on one end of the couch, and Edward and I on the other end. I have Edward's hand in my lap, a baggy of ice against his swollen knuckles. I had been trying to glare at them both at the same time, but that didn't work too well, so now I'm settling for staring sadly down at Edward's damaged hand.

His poor, perfect hand.

I press another kiss to it and Edward sighs. "It's going to be okay," he promises, again.

I glare at him and he quickly shuts up. I glare at Emmett too, but he's already properly trained and knows better than to even try to talk right now.

Stupid, idiotic, testosterone-fueled dumbshits.

I kiss Edward's knuckles again and he sighs again, but this time he yanks his hand away from me. "Stop it, it's fine."

"Oh, shit," Emmett laughs.

I turn the glare that I had on Edward to Emmett. I consider telling them both off, but then I decide that it's not even worth it.

I stand up, straightening my shorts so they're just perfect and sweep my hair back. "Fuck you both. Fight like a couple of Neanderthals for all I fucking care. I'll be in the pool."

Emmett snorts as I leave, and I pay him no mind, because I am the dignified one here. "You are  _so_ not getting laid tonight," I hear him say to Edward before I disappear.

I don't bother informing him that I don't withhold sex when I'm angry, I punish.


	7. Chapter 7

I'm only outside for about five minutes before Emmett comes moseying out. Edward, who looks irritated beyond belief, is directly behind him. I do my best to ignore the both of them, but Emmett is fucking loudly checking out everything in the vicinity and Edward is practically hovering over me.

I'm lying on my stomach in a lounge chair, trying like hell not to think about either of them, but Edward's fingers are tickling up and down my back. Normally, Edward's hands on me in anyway is good, but right now, it's bothering the fuck out of me. I don't ask him to stop though. When Emmett's excited voice moves into the pool house, Edward leans down and starts kissing my shoulders and the back of my neck.

"Thank you for caring about my hand, baby," he whispers, even going so far as to nuzzle his face into my hair and kissing the back of my head.

I roll my eyes since he can't see me do it. He's such a fucking suck up, it's ridiculous. I want to tell him that it's a little late for his gratitude but I don't, because I'm a noble man. I'm not vindictive, not at all.

"You're welcome," I offer quietly, giving him a small smile over my shoulder. I raise up a little, hinting at a kiss.

He looks fucking shocked and suspicious, and maybe a little guilty himself, but that doesn't stop him from kissing me. Emmett is still hollering from the pool house, so when Edward tries to slip me a little tongue, I have no reason to deny him—other than the reason that I  _want_ to deny him. But I don't do that. I give him what he wants but when Emmett's voice starts to approach, I pull away.

"Jesus, Emmett, could you talk a little louder, I don't think the neighbors across the fucking way can hear you?" Edward snaps.

I say nothing, and Emmett is about as fazed as he ever is. Edward grabs a second chaise, pulling it right up next to mine. When he lays down, he extends his arm out, placing his palm right against the center of my back.

Again, I roll my eyes.  _Territorial, horny, spoiled asshole_. He's lucky I love him.

"Sweetie, you're going to fuck up my tan lines," I say to him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, babe," he replies.

All this 'babe' and 'baby' shit is going to lose its effect fast, he must know he's really in trouble. That definitely has me reconsidering punishing him. It's no fun if he knows he's in trouble. I think I'll let him get away with it this time, it'll keep him on his toes and treating me like a princess all day. Then he'll have no idea what to expect next time around.

I wait for him to move his hand off of my back, and when he does, he really fucking surprises me. He moves it right onto my ass, and squeezes once. His hand hasn't been there since he was drunk. He's pulling out the big guns, definitely trying to get himself out of the hole he put himself in. Smart and sexy, what a catch.

"Jasper, stop watching me take off my clothes," Emmett says.

Edward's hand on my ass tenses and flexes and I roll my eyes. He can't seriously believe Emmett.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Edward yells at him.

"I'm not going to jump in the pool with my clothes on, dipshit."

"Hey numb nuts, don't call my boyfriend a dipshit unless you'd like to piss out of a catheter the rest of your life," I warn.

"Christ, you two are nauseating," Emmett groans. Then he yells, "Cannonball!" and water is splashing everywhere.

I sigh and Edward starts cursing, and the day continues as such.

–

Emmett finally decides to leave about three hours later. I didn't think he was ever going to leave, honestly. He was fucking obsessed with that waterslide. He was literally as happy as a kid at a water park. I kind of envied his enthusiasm for the little things in life.

I can't say it was all bad having him there though. Edward continued to be up my ass the entire time, which I didn't mind—no pun intended or anything. I think it was good for him to see Emmett and I interact, because it was always platonic and I have to admit, Emmett was on really good behavior most of the time. He likes fucking with Edward though, so he pulled his usual shit. He smacked my ass once, which Edward handled really well—he didn't hit him again, at least. Then Emmett started smacking Edward's ass though, which surprisingly did piss me off even though I knew it was just fun and games.

It was about the third smack that did it. My dignity was shot, I couldn't watch him lay his hands on my man one more time. The first two times Edward was the one who freaked out on Emmett, the third time, I grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back before Edward could even start to yell.

"Holy shit, you're stronger than you look," Emmett gasped, struggling to break my hold.

"If you lay your fucking hand on  _my_  fucking boyfriend one more fucking time, I'm going to rip your fucking hands off and shove them so far up your ass you'll be able to tickle your own throat. Are we fucking clear?"

"Oh, come on, his ass—"

I twisted harder and he shut up. "His ass is mine to fucking smack, not yours. Are we fucking clear?"

"Okay, okay, yes, I won't touch him again."

I made him promise before I shoved him into the pool. I may have then made out with Edward. He fucking started the territorial bullshit, now I was... just following along. If he could practically piss on my leg to mark me as his, then I could do that shit too.

"I should get going, I have a date tonight," Emmett said, shaking his hair out like a dog.

"Awesome, bye," I replied. I quickly covered my eyes as he stuck his thumbs into his underwear—which is all he'd been swimming in. At least he hadn't been going commando. Emmett is  _not_  shy.

Edward apparently didn't catch on to what was going to happen next. "Ugh, fucking Christ," he groaned, practically gagging. He shoved his face into my shoulder from behind and I ruffled his hair apologetically. I should have warned him.

"Yeah, I know, my dick is blindingly attractive," Emmett chuckled. "Totally ruined all other cocks for you, didn't it?"

"Yes to the last half," Edward said. "I am now positive I never want to see another cock that isn't my own or Jasper's."

Cue totally sappy 'aw' here. I love my totally hot, super sweet, barely bisexual, territorial asshole of a boyfriend.

"Whatever," Emmett muttered. "This is our third date. We're totally hitting it off, and he totally sucked me off last night."

Oh, great, Emmett. "I don't want to hear about this," I told him.

"Of course you do, you love hearing this shit." I tried to make it clear that, no, I actually did not like hearing about his sex life, but he just talked over me, ignoring everything I said. "He gives pretty decent head, a little on the sloppy side, but I'll take a too wet blowjob over a too dry blowjob any day. He swallowed, so at least we know he's not a hypocrite, right, Jazz?"

I didn't answer, but he didn't seem to care. "That's a lesson for you, Eddie, don't expect Jazzy to swallow if you won't swallow."

Edward tensed behind me and I reached back to grab his hand. "Our sex life is none of your concern and you have no idea what I do and do not do in bed, so I'd appreciate if you would keep  _your '_ lessons' for _your_ boyfriends." Translation: Edward, baby, I'll swallow even if you won't.

"Fine, whatever, just trying to help you out. Anyways, I need to go shower before I pick him up. Maybe I'll get lucky and he'll slip me a finger tonight, or three. Hopefully he's into the whole rugged look, since my nose is totally fucked for a few weeks. Maybe it'll get me laid."

Oh, fucking great, Emmett. "Are you leaving or not?" I snap at him.

"Yeah, yeah. You were never this prudish before, Jazz. I don't think I really like the way you're changing for him."

He left after that, and Edward and I were still standing there awkwardly. Emmett managed to worm his sneaky bastard way right into our heads. Mine because I let him piss me off, again. And Edward...

"I don't want you to change for me," Edward says quietly.

"Baby, I'm not changing. Emmett did that shit on purpose, don't let him get to you."

He sighs and I turn to look at him. His eyebrows are all bunched up like he's worried and I smooth my fingers over them, trying to push the little crinkles out. "I think you are changing for me. I mean, you never waited this long before to fuck."

I lean forward and kiss his forehead, then take his hand and lead him to the couch. I think it's time for me to explain exactly what it was that I used to do, because he doesn't seem to get that he's different.

"Edward, what we have and what I had with those other guys have nothing in common. They were fucks; from the beginning to the end, that's all they ever were, nothing more. What I did was look for guys who were open-minded, not curious, but open-minded enough to accept what they liked, and I would open up a whole new world to them. My goal was to fuck the straight out of them—and yes, I know how fucked that is. As soon as the first move was made sexually, I took them all the way and never looked back.

"I may have found you with that mindset, but it changed. I don't want to fuck you, Edward. You're not one of those straight boys that I need to change. I want whatever you want, and I mean it, nothing more than that. If we just dry hump for as long as we are together, I would be okay with that, because it's what you're comfortable with.

"And if... I mean if it... If we break up," I force myself to say, though I don't even want to think about that at all, "I'm not going back. I can't do that shit anymore. It's deceptive and I was just a player. No one was ever really bitter," I defend, "but still, I think it was wrong of me to change  _them_. I'm not changing for you, Edward, I'm changing for me."

"You don't want to fuck me?" he asks, after everything I'd just told him.

I sigh. "No, I don't. I've already told you, baby, if we never have sex, I'm okay with that. I've met quite a few gay couples who don't have butt sex at all, actually. Some gay men find it to be demeaning, and prefer not to do it, others just think it's dirty. I'm not under either of those impressions, but can see where both mindsets are coming from. I'm not willing to ask you to do something you aren't comfortable with. You don't have to change for me either.

"But, if you do someday want to try, it's not going to be fucking, Edward. Fucking constitutes a certain state of detachment, sex without the feelings. All the actions, none of the emotion. I want more with you. I want to make love with you, not just fuck."

"Oh," he breathes.

I reach over and squeeze his hand. "Look, I know it's probably a lot to take in. It's probably kind of difficult to even imagine loving me, like in the emotional sense, let alone considering a dick up the ass as an act of love, but just know that I care for you either way. I mean, if you can't love me or make love with me someday, that's cool. We can't just be really close friends or whatever," I ramble, immediately wanting to hit myself for the nonsense coming out of my mouth.

"What?" Edward asks, looking sort of lost.

"I don't fucking know, I'm rambling because now  _I'm_  nervous because I can't stand the thought of breaking up with you."

"Then stop thinking about breaking up with me," he says adamantly.

"That's not what I mean. I'm not thinking of breaking up with you, I don't want that. I just, well, you know."

"No?" he replies, confused.

"I'm just fucking scared. I don't know what I'm doing or talking about, I've never fucking been in love before. I've only been in one real relationship and even that was short lived."

"Really?" he asks, and I hope he's talking about the relationship thing, because I basically just told him I'm in love with him…

"Yeah. The only relationship I was ever in was when I was eighteen. I didn't love him, he was just... convenient, I guess? He was my first, I was young and kind of insecure about being gay. It was good, but there just wasn't that real connection between us. Plus he was like twice my age.

"Then there was Peter. He was my first straight conquest, or whatever. I was more obsessed with him than anything. It certainly wasn't love. Pete's a great guy, you might get to meet him some day."

"What do you mean I might get to meet him? You still fucking talk to the first guy you... broke in?"

I shrug. "Yeah. We're friends."

"With benefits?" he asks.

"No! Jesus, we only ever had sex the one time... Er, well, that's not true, the one night, I guess is what I should say. We're  _just_ friends, strictly platonic."

"Oh, yeah right. Like he never tried to get in your pants again after 'the one night' when you apparently had sex more than one time."

Christ, now who dug themselves a hole? "That's not what I said," I try to explain. "I... After Peter is when I realized that I liked straight guys. I wasn't interested after the first night. Pete gets that."

"Where the fuck does that leave us then?" he asks, a bit hysterically. "If we fuck, then it's over?"

"Christ, Edward, no! And didn't I just tell you we aren't going to fuck? It's different with us. I didn't... I never had feelings for Pete. I just thought he was insanely good looking, it was strictly about the sex."

"I'm so fucking confused right now! How do you know you're not going to want to leave after the first time? How the fuck can you say you care for me, but in the same breath say we don't have to have sex?"

"Would you just listen to me? If you were the same as those other guys, I would have been gone already. I would have pressed your boundaries so fucking far last night that you wouldn't have known what to do! I would have fucked you and I would have left this morning with nothing more than a 'see you around, cutie'. But I don't want to fuck you, I don't want to leave.  _I want to make love_ , and that's exactly what I mean when I say I care for you but we don't have to have sex. When you fucking love someone, it's not about the sex."

And then I hold my fucking breath, because I've basically told him I love him about seven times tonight and I don't think he's caught it any of the times. But this one is right there. He's not stupid, it has to click eventually.

"It's obviously not about the sex for me either," he mutters.

The air whooshes out of me like I was just punched in the gut, only it hurts in my heart—but it's a good pain. I think that my hidden 'I love you' was just responded to with a cryptic 'I love you too'.

I launch myself at him and he tries to catch me, but I've kind of added a little more oomph than really necessary and we both lose our balance. We laugh and continue to kiss, even though we're in the most awkward position ever. When it gets painful and we're both a little breathless, we pull away and I roll my lower half into a more comfortable position across his lap.

I gently brush my fingers through his hair, and he tilts his head to look at me. "Do you get it now?" I ask, toying with his hair still, because it's so fucking soft.

He nods, but says, "No," at the same time.

I smile sadly. "It's clear as mud, isn't it?" Again, he nods. "What don't you get exactly?"

"I'm still stuck on the whole sex thing. I get that sex isn't the most important thing here, for either of us, but I think it's pretty obvious we're both kind of... sexual people. What happens if a year from now we're still only dry humping?"

I smile and twirl the hair that is always falling in his eyes with my finger. "I'll still be the luckiest fucker around, because I'll have you. I think I'll get smart and start wearing a condom though, since that'll make cleanup so much fucking easier."

He laughs and shakes his head. "You are such a fucking liar. You'd get so bored of the dry humping."

"I would not," I contend. "How could I when I get to see all of this on top of me or beneath me?" I ask, motioning to his super delicious body. "And feel it against me. Besides, you have the hottest cum face ever, just that is enough to keep me entertained for life." He rolls his eyes, so I suspect he doesn't believe me. "Think of it this way, baby: If you had to choose between a life with no orgasms at all or a life of only masturbating to orgasm, which would you choose?"

"That doesn't even apply. That's like saying if you didn't have me to grind on you'd never cum again."

I huff. "Just fucking humor me."

"Fine, I'd obviously pick masturbating."

"Exactly. And if you had to pick between a life of only masturbating or dry humping, what would you choose?"

"Hmm, tough choice," he says with a smirk. "Do I still get to masturbate with the dry humping option?"

"Only when I'm around to watch," I joke. He slaps me for that. "I'm kidding," I laugh. "But yes, of course you can masturbate."

"Well then obviously I'm going to pick dry humping with the option to masturbate."

"Exactly," I say with a grin.

He rolls his eyes. "Exactly nothing. I already said it doesn't apply. There's no way your life would be orgasm-less without me."

"It would be, baby. You've ruined me for all other men. I don't think I'll ever cum again if you leave me," I say dramatically—if not seriously.

He rolls his eyes. "You'd still have your hand, not that I'd ever leave you."

"Aww, but don't forget sex toys. Not that they'd ever compare to you." He blushes when I say 'sex toys' and I giggle and pull him down on top of me. "Mr. Conservative, you've never even seen a sex toy, have you?" He shyly shakes his head 'no' and a moan slips through my lips. "I don't even know why that's hot, but it is. I'm bringing you something next time I come over." His face blanches and his eyes get all wide. I shake my head and pull his lips down to mine. "Calm down, I only have one toy and it's not some giant dildo or something. It's like one of those Fleshlight things or whatever they are called. Basically it's a mouth, you shoot some lube in there, and these awesome little bumps on the inside of it give you artificial head. Oral sex with your hand. It's amazing. They make them dishwasher safe, so I'll toss him in there so he's all clean and ready for you."

Edward laughs. "Him? Is it seriously shaped like a dude's mouth?"

I nod. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"No, that's just fucking awesome. Wait, did you name him?"

"Yes," I say proudly. "His name is Alejandro."

Edward snorts a little he laughs so hard, but then he stops rather suddenly. "You said when you come again, does that mean you're leaving?"

I kiss his pouty mouth before I answer. "It's getting late, and you probably have shit to do, so yeah, soon."

"I don't... Okay, yeah, I do probably have shit I should be doing, but it can wait. I want you to stay."

"If school work is the shit you should be doing, then no, it can't wait. You need to do your school work."

"Who are you, my fucking father?" he asks.

"I really hope not, otherwise that boner I feel pressed against my thigh would be seriously inappropriate."

"Oh, Jasper, you just have a way with words, don't you, baby?"

"Yeah. Now hump me again before I leave," I say, wrapping my legs around his ass to pull him closer.

He laughs. "I'm only going to hump you again if you agree to stay."

"Doesn't that constitute as blackmail, Mr. Cullen?"

"Don't call me Mr. Cullen. And you wouldn't be able to prove anything. There's no substantial evidence that can be held against me, proving my guilt in the Court of Law."

I moan, grinding up on him. "God, you're so fuckhot when you talk lawyer to me."

"Yeah, you like that?" he asks.

"Oh yeah, more," I practically beg.

He smiles and gets that sexy, naughty glint in his eye. "You are culpable of a heinous delinquency, Jasper Whitlock. This litigation is controvertible, the evidence indubitable. Divergent to the sworn statement provided, we have found a severe deficiency in your ability to avow to an oath of abstaining from a copulatory relationship with myself."

"Don't stop," I insist when his eyes fall closed and his mouth hangs open.

He opens his eyes again. "Uh, we find you guilty as charged. Your sentence is... Christ, Jasper, how the hell am I suppose to use big words when we're doing this?"

"You're were doing fine before," I counter.

He sighs, then moans a little. "It feels too good to think."

"I had no idea what you were saying anyway," I admit.

He drops his face into my neck and snickers. "Basically just that you are a dirty little liar."

"Isn't that defamation of character?"

He snickers again. "What can I say, I'm a dirty lawyer. Now shut up and kiss me."

Before he can kiss me, I ask, "Can I touch you?"

"Where do you want to touch me?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Everywhere," I admit, "but I might settle for you letting me squeeze your ass a little."

He moves in for the kiss and I take that as my okay to touch his butt. I've been dying to, it looks so squeezable. His mouth moves knowingly over mine and he kisses me long and hard. I start with my hands at his shoulders slowly work downwards, navigating every inch of his back before I even try to put my hands on his ass.

"Just do it already," he pleads after I've dragged my fingers over his lower back for about five minutes. I lightly place my hands over his ass cheeks and he laughs. "You're not going to break my ass, Jasper, come on."

"Like this?" I ask, grabbing his ass firmly, pulling him against me hard, while I grind up into him at the same time.

"Oh, fuck yes," he moans.

I keep my hands on his ass and our humping turns into some seriously loud thrusting. We're both moaning and he's licking and biting at my neck and chest, and I'm pressing his limits by moving my fingers further into his crack every time I squeeze. I'm pretty sure he likes it though, he's moaning like crazy. His ass is flexing underneath my hands and it's really making me hot. His ass is so tight and pert, I want to sink my teeth into it... Actually, there is something else I'd really like to sink into it, but I'd like to bite it too.

It feels so fucking good having him on top of me, being able to see his muscles work as he thrusts and grinds his dick on mine. I love hearing him and he really gets more vocal each time we do this, not to mention more brave.

His lips move to my nipples and his tongue flicks over it quickly and I can't hold back.

"Fuck, Edward, so good. So fucking good. Yes," I moan as his lips wrap around my nipple and he sucks.

I hold onto his ass as my hips start to buck. "Oh yeah, fuck, baby," he moans. "So fucking close."

I throw my head back and moan repeatedly as the orgasm rips through my body. I'm swearing and whimpering his name by the time I'm finished cumming and he isn't quite there yet. My dick is oversensitive immediately after and his grinding is only intensifying, which feels good and hurts at the same damn time.

"Fuck, fuck, Jasper, fuck, fuck," he chants. His hands grip my hips and I hold myself at the angle he seems to want and his thrusts shorten and quicken. I can feel the head of his cock sliding repeatedly over the knot in the top of my shorts and hitting me in the bellybutton. It's fucking hot and he's sweating and his cum face is starting. I squeeze his ass hard and he grunts really loudly and I feel him tighten beneath my fingers, and I swear that I'm going to cum again just from watching him and feeling him cum against me.

His eyes open and lock with mine, and though they threaten to fall closed, he forces them to stay open. He moans my name and stare into his eyes while his body starts to quiver. I can feel his entrance fluttering and his cock jerking while he's cumming and I want it on my skin again.

Then I hear the door open and close. But Edward doesn't. And he's about to moan again. I smash my mouth to his, but it barely muffles the loud moaning he has going on. Whoever has come in calls Edward's name, and that's when he realizes we're not alone. I move my hands from his ass and he jerks and quivers against me, his eyes wide with fear.

He's still cumming; talk about a ruined fucking orgasm. It's hot, yet I feel really bad for him at the same time.

"Jasper, he can't know," Edward all but cries quietly into my ear.

I feel his fear, his panic. His heart is racing against my chest and there is such terror in his brilliant green eyes. I hear the man traveling up the stairs and I pull Edward's mouth to mine.

I kiss him before I whisper, "Baby, you go jump in the pool and I'll be in the laundry room. It's going to be okay." He swallows and his lips tremble, he's so fucking scared. "Go," I urge, pushing him halfway off of me.

He stumbles the first few steps, then looks over his shoulder at me right behind him and I think that it clicks that no one is going to find out yet and some of the fear leaves his face. If he's going to face whoever is here, he's going to need to calm down.

He grabs me before he goes out the backdoor. "Thank you," he whispers.

I turn my head and kiss his ear, then tell him, "I'll be your dirty little secret."

He gets this wicked smirk on his face when I shove him away from me. He quietly exits out the door and I sneak my way to the laundry room. I locate my now clean clothes from yesterday in the dryer and peel the sticky shorts off of me and find a clean towel to wipe myself off with.

Once dressed, I start the washing machine and jump when a voice comes from behind me. "I really hope he's not making you do his laundry," the man says.

I turn around and then have to brace myself against the washing machine, because holy shit, that is Carlisle Cullen, and he's way more attractive than he looks on TV.

"Uh, what?" I ask brilliantly.

He smiles, and he gets those same fucking crinkles by his eyes that Edward does, only maybe a little deeper because he's older, but fuck me, he's still hot. He's an older, blond version of Edward. Oh my God, these are the most amazing genetics ever. I want Edward's babies.

"I said I really hope that Edward isn't making you do his dirty laundry."

I almost laugh, because  _I am_  his dirty laundry. "Oh, no, it's mine," I say, blushing and running a hand through my hair. Shit, my hair is kind of sweaty and definitely a lot messed up.

He doesn't seem to notice. "Well, that's a first. He's not exactly the most gracious person. Where is he anyway?"

"Oh, um, out back, I think."

The man shakes his head before turning on his heel and I bite my lip and follow, trying desperately to remember that this is Edward's brother. Edward's way older brother. He's old enough to be our dad. Fuck me, his ass is just as fine as Edward's.

"Edward," the man calls.

"What?" Edward calls back.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing, because Carlisle huffs and rolls his eyes, just like Edward. "Get in here," he yells.

"Why?" Edward yells back.

"Because I said," Carlisle says tersely.

"That's not a reason," Edward snarks. Now I'm really biting my lip. He's such a shit, I fucking love how annoying he can be.

"Just get in here, now."

"Jesus fucking Christ, fucking demanding asshole motherfucker," he rambles, loudly, as he starts across the patio toward us, where we're waiting by the door. "What the fuck is your problem?" Edward asks him.

"You are, Junior."

"Don't you dare start that fucking Junior shit, or I'm going to kick your ass, I don't care if you're a senior citizen or not."

"Why are you in the pool?"

"I don't know, I was thirsty? Why the fuck do you think I was in the pool?"

"Isn't there something else you're supposed to be doing?"

"I didn't have to be at the Firm today."

It's like watching a tennis match, only a million times more entertaining.

"No, but you still had work to do today, Edward. Have you finished it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Edward mutters.

"My aunt Fannie you don't know what I'm talking about. You know you were supposed to be writing a report on the case file Dad gave you."

"That was last week."

"No, you were supposed to be done with it last week, but you didn't do it, so  _somebody_  kindly extended it until tomorrow. Don't give me this bullpoo about last week."

"Why do you insist on using stupid kid's swear words? Just say bullshit, you uptight old fart."

"Why do you insist on being disrespectful and immature? You need an attitude adjustment."

"And you need new plugs, you're looking old."

"My hair is natural and as thick as ever, don't be ridiculous. Why are you an impolite brat? Who is this guy?"

"Oh, Jasper, this is my brother Carlisle. Carlisle, this is my friend Jasper."

"Nice to meet you," Carlisle says, reaching out to shake my hand.

I step forward and smile. "The pleasure is mine," I tell him, as I shake his hand. I swear to God, I can  _feel_ Edward glaring at me. What did I do?

"I must ask, why in the world are you friends with such an insolent, ignorant, intolerable idiot?"

"Oh, you're so smart, you can think up 'I' words to insult me," Edward taunts.

"He's a good friend," I answer, not knowing what else to say. It's not like I can say that I love him or he's easy on the eyes or that he doesn't treat me like crap majority of the time or that he's good in bed.

"Well, that's news to me," Carlisle says. "Where'd you guys meet? Are you a law student too?" he asks hopefully.

"Oh, no. Umm, we met—"

"We met at a fucking bar, not that it's any of your fucking business," Edward cuts me off.

"At a bar," Carlisle mutters disappointedly. "What do you do, Jasper?"

I go to answer, but Edward cuts me off again. "Not that that's any of your business either, and it's pretty fucking rude that you're asking anyway, but he's an awesome fucking artist. He drew my tattoo for me."

"When the fu... When did you get a tattoo?" Carlisle asks, almost raising his voice, and almost using the f-word.

Edward shrugs. "Like two months ago." He turns around and shows Carlisle the tattoo, and I actually hear Carlisle sigh.

"The Cullen crest. Well, you could have done worse. That's really good work, Jasper."

"Thanks, I didn't—"

Edward cuts me off, yet again. "He fucking redesigned the whole thing for me. It's fucking awesome, isn't it?"

"Would you watch your mouth? It's very nice, you are very talented, Jasper."

"Thank you, it's really—"

"Is that all or is this a fucking interrogation?" Edward asks Carlisle, cutting me off for a final fucking time. If he does it again, I'm going to kick him in the nuts.

"I guess that is all. You need to have that report on my desk first thing tomorrow morning."

"Is that what you came over for, to bitch at me about something I have already fucking done? You could have just called asshole."

"I've been trying to call, but you haven't answered your phone all day. And if it's done, I want it now."

"Fuck you, I'll give it to you when I want to."

"You can't lie to me, Junior, I'm the real lawyer."

"The real asshole is more like it. Just because you use nice words doesn't make you a nice person."

"Have a good day, Edward." Carlisle hooks his arm around my shoulders as he turns. "Walk with me, Jasper."

I look over my shoulder to see Edward freaking the fuck out. He looks like he wants to kill his brother for even touching me, which is frankly ridiculous, and he may want to kill me for walking away with him. Great.

"Sorry about all of this, he can be so volatile sometimes," Carlisle says when we round the corner.

"It's okay, you don't have to apologize, I understand," I offer with a smile. I've figured out by now that Edward's family is pretty fucked up, and it's none of my business anyway.

"It's good for him to have a friend, so I hope you stick around, Jasper. Don't let him run you off, just wait him out. He's pretty loyal once he realizes you're not out to hurt him."

"I'll do that," I promise, though I think I've already partially made it past the hard part. The only thing we need to work on is his trust issue.

"Good. I hope to see you again sometime. Again, I'm very sorry for you having to see me at my worst and Edward at his... whatever that was."

I chuckle politely and shake his offered hand again. "Have a good day, Carlisle."

"Thanks, you too."

As soon as Carlisle is out the door, Edward is on my ass. "What the fuck was that about? What did he say to you? What did you say to him?"

"Well, first he confessed that he's been checking out my ass since he got here, then he admitted that he wants to nail me. He tried to kiss me, but I politely declined and let him know that since I'm sleeping with you, I couldn't possibly enter into a relationship with him," I reply sarcastically. He's pissing me off with his ridiculous fucking questions and his bad attitude.

"Do you think you're funny? Do you think it's funny that I almost got caught?"

"Almost doesn't count, sweetie. And since you asked, yes, I think I'm pretty fucking hilarious. Oh, also, thank you so much for letting me speak, it's so fucking generous of you."

"How the fuck do you think it felt for me, huh? I'm sure you wouldn't give a shit if everyone found out that you are sleeping with me, but my family isn't very fucking understanding, okay? If they knew, they'd probably fucking kick me out of this house and take everything away from me."

"Except me, not like that would fucking matter to you."

"Oh, bullshit, Jasper. You wouldn't fucking be with me if I didn't have all this."

"Fuck you," I snap. "Fuck you, you pretentious piece of shit."

"I fucking saw you checking him out.  _You_  were looking at  _his_  ass."

I should have figured that is what this was about. "Fuck you."

"Nothing to say for yourself? Again, Jasper, fucking nothing? No explanation, no apology?" I stomp away from him, heading towards the stairs. "Yeah, just walk away, Jasper. Where the fuck do you think you're going? Where are you going?" he yells, following me up the stairs.

He grabs me when he gets close enough, yanking me to a stop. I shake away from him, but he just grabs me again, demanding to know where I'm going.

I turn and grab him, shoving him against the wall. "Where the fuck do you think I'm going? I'm going home, where I fucking belong. I'm getting my phone off of your nightstand, and then I'll get my gold digging loser ass out of your fucking way."

"You're leaving?" he asks.

"I sure as fuck am not staying."

"So, that's it, you're done? You're just giving up and leaving?"

"You started this bullshit, don't fucking blame it on me. I know I fucking screwed up before, but I've tried to explain to you how much I fucking care about you, and you just don't get it. You don't trust me, you called me a fucking gold digger, you obviously don't believe a thing I fucking say. I fucking told you I'd be your dirty little secret, I offered that, and you know what, I changed my mind. I don't want to be your secret. You should be proud to be with me, because I'm fucking worth it. But fuck you, Edward, fuck you, I'm done."

"No," is all he can say.

"I hope you're happy," I declare, turning away from him.

"Why the fuck would I be happy? Do you think this is what I want? Do you think I want you to leave?" he yells, following me.

"Yes," I reply honestly.

"Well, then you're a fucking idiot, Jasper. If I wanted you to leave, I would have told you to leave. I've been asking you to stay, I practically fucking begged you to stay, and you're the one who is always trying to leave. I want you here, I want you to be with me."

"You want me to be with you, but you don't want to be with me."

"Don't fucking twist what I'm saying, you're putting words into my mouth again. That's not what I said, and that's not how I feel. If I didn't want to be with you, I'd tell you."

"No, you wouldn't because you're a fucking coward. You can't tell me you don't want to be with me, you just push me away."

"I never pushed you away."

I shake my head and laugh bitterly, snatching my phone off of the nightstand. "You're pushing me away now, you pushed me away when you accused me of checking out your brother, you pushed me away when you told me your brother couldn't know about us."

"You did fucking check out my brother."

"Yes, I admit it, I was checking out your brother, and he is hot. But guess what, Edward, all I could fucking think when I was looking at him was, 'Jesus, if Edward looks like this thirty years from now, I'm going to be one lucky motherfucker'. You're right though, I'm just a fucking idiot, I don't know what the hell was going through my head to believe I would be with you thirty years from now."

"So it's over, you're leaving me?" he asks, staring at the floor.

"I'm leaving, but you're the one who left me, Edward. I can't do this with you anymore, it hurts too much. If... If you ever..." I stutter, wondering what to say. If you ever want to apologize, call me? Yeah, the day Edward Cullen apologizes is the day Hitler wins a Nobel Peace Prize.

"I don't want you to go, we'll get through this, don't—" He cuts himself off as he raises his eyes to mine. "You're crying," he half asks, half states. His hands moves toward my face, and I avoid it by backing up, but he moves with me, not stopping until his always rough, but unendingly tender, hands are on either side of my cheeks. His face is broken and he's pushing my tears away just as fast at they come. "It's just a fight, we'll be okay," he says, but I don't feel it. I'm too broken to feel it, I think he was saying it to himself anyway.

I try to twist myself away from him, but he's holding on. He's pushing me away from him and clutching on to me for dear life all at the same fucking time and I'm already too broken. I'm too broken to care that he's moving closer to me. I'm too broken to respond to his lips on mine. I'm too broken to even feel his lips at all.

"Come on, fucking kiss me," he demands, his hands pushing and pulling, commanding a response. But I don't have one.

"I tried to tell you how I feel, and I thought you told me too, but I must have misunderstood. I'm done apologizing for everything that I did wrong when you won't do the same. I have to go."

"No," he says. "You don't have to fucking go. You can fucking stay here and be with me. We can have sex, anyway you want to, I don't fucking care anymore."

I don't know how it is even possible for him to hurt me anymore than he already has, but he succeeded. Those are the last words I need to hear to know that this is over, that he'll say anything except what I need him to.

"I'm glad you don't care anymore, that makes us even. Congratulations, you are the first man who ever broke my heart. Goodbye, Edward."


	8. Chapter 8

The week from Hell follows my leaving  _his_ place. I'm fucking miserable and I don't know what to do with myself. I draw a whole fucking hell of a lot, but that doesn't help. I have to take sleeping pills to even get myself to close my eyes, and those don't fucking help. I can't eat, which doesn't help the outrageous amount of pain I'm feeling. I want to die, which also doesn't help because that's just fucking depressing and I'm not a depressed sort of guy—and I'm certainly not suicidal, or I never have been before, at least.

My car sits abandoned in the driveway, parked sloppily because of my rush that night. It's a good thing it's parked that way, though, actually. It's taking up the whole driveway, so no one can park beside me or behind me. That's the way it should be. Mine, for myself only, no one else.

My phone sits abandoned on the kitchen counter. The battery died two days ago when  _he_ tried to call again. It was the third time, and I wasn't ready to answer, so I didn't. He didn't leave a message the first two times, just like I knew he wouldn't because it's not like he was actually calling to make shit better. He probably just wanted to hurt me some more. Call me a few more hurtful names. Treat me like a piece of shit. He definitely wasn't calling to apologize.

I sit abandoned at my easel. I was never a good painter, but I'm trying. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I found my paints the other day and I decided that I needed to use them up. So I'm painting. And it looks fucking ridiculous. I'm pretty sure kindergarteners finger-paint better than this, but I don't care.

I have art, and it doesn't help at all, because art doesn't hold me or kiss me. Art also doesn't make me feel like a whore or say terrible things, but that doesn't seem to matter, because I miss the things that art can't offer me. The good things. I forget about the bad a lot, but I always remember it before I decide to do something stupid.

I can't call  _him._ He's not mine to call. I can't see him. He's not mine to see. I can't forgive him, because he won't fucking apologize to me. I hate him, but I fucking love him, and I want to forget him. What I want doesn't matter, I don't even try to forget. I can't. I hold onto the one thing I have left of him.

The pair of underwear that I mistook as mine when I grabbed them from the dryer. Which means he has my underwear too. Knowing him, he probably threw them away or set them on fire. But I have his favorite pair, the ones he wore the first time he came for me, and I keep them in my bed with me like a complete creep. At least I don't fucking wear them.

So basically I want to die alone with a pair of underwear that belong to a man who doesn't belong to me, and never did, while I paint ridiculous pieces of shit for no good reason.

God, that is depressing. I'm such a tortured artist. Why the hell do my paintings still look like garbage?

I'm so done with men. I think that maybe I should try to switch teams. Maybe the pink taco won't be that bad. I mean, it looks really bad, like an axe wound with mucosal leakage and shit, but maybe if I don't look it won't be so bad. And boobies could be fun. I might like playing with boobies. Or one of those athletic girls with flat chests and muscular legs might work.

I start to cry unexpectedly because I definitely don't want to be with a woman, ever. I also don't want to come to terms with the fact that I can't be with Ed—  _him_.

I throw my paints down, pissed that once again I'm crying over him. The fucking piece of me is gone again and I still don't know what the fuck to do without it. I don't know how I let him get to be so important, but it's like he's a vital fucking organ to me, to my body. Not having him is like being fractured, like parts of me are missing, and I know that's because he has them. He has my fucking heart and he has my fucking soul and my fucking balls too, those are right up on his damn mantel. He has my brain, my mind is lost unless it's on him. He must have my dick too, because it's turned into a useless flopper with no sign of life.

I strip down to nothing and climb into bed, hugging my favorite pillow like it's my last fucking lifeline. I find  _his_ underwear and I just hold them for a while, but then it's too much and I miss him too terribly. I need him to be with me somehow, so I crush them to me and I swear I can smell him. I don't sleep, I can never sleep, but I remember. Sometimes it feels like a dream, but I know it's just my memories combined with my lack of sleep that makes it all so surreal. I'm nearly able to forget the pain, though it never goes away.

I can remember what it felt like to be in his arms while he slept. I can remember the look in his eyes that I swore was love. I can remember the way he moaned my name. I can remember his lighthearted banter. I can remember the way he'd unexpectedly embrace me and just start kissing. I can remember how much I fell in love with him, in such a short time.

But this isn't a dream, it's a memory, and it's inevitable that I start to think about the other things I remember. The way his moods would shift so suddenly and the way he could say the most hurtful things without a second thought and the way he told me he didn't care anymore. It isn't a dream, it isn't even a nightmare, and I can't wake up from it.

–

Today is blue. Yesterday was red. The day before yellow. Every color but green. I can't use the green, not straight anyway. I mix it with black, blue, and yellow and hope that I'll run out before I have to use it, but my hope isn't very strong.

Tomorrow I'll have to figure out how to use the white.

There's been some fairly consistent knocking at my front and back door for the last ten minutes, but I'm ignoring it.

I need to figure out how to use that white. Maybe it'll work with the red paintings from yesterday. But that will still leave the fucking green. Maybe I can just mix all of these fucking colors together and make a shit color that will look hideous. The paint will match the paintings then.

"It smells like ass in here," Emmett says quietly from behind me.

His voice doesn't even startle me. I knew it was only a matter of time. He's my fucking best friend for some reason, and he knows where I hide the key. I don't respond to him. Instead I look for a blank spot on my canvas to add more blue.

"Is this like a metaphor for how blue you're feeling, Jasper? If so, it's fucking wonderful. I've never seen so many shades of blue in my life."

I don't bother to tell him that it's shit as usual.

"Oh, fucking sweet. This one is awesome," he says.

He moves across the room. Everything goes in slow-motion. His feet, his exuberance, time. It's slow, and I know what's coming, but I want it to happen.

He steps on the tube of green paint and the paint shoots everywhere. It's like fireworks. Green fireworks. Splatter, shoot, blob, drip, smear, seep. Slow-motion. Green everywhere.

Just as quickly, it becomes too green. It's too fucking green. It's  _him_  and I can't think about him unless I'm remembering, and I'm not remembering right now, I'm just... being. He's all over my fucking paintings now. Their his. They were already his before, but now it's so fucking obvious. He's here, in this room now too, and I can't fucking stand it.

"Oh, fuck, Jasper. I'm sorry. Shit, Jazz, I'm so sorry."

"Get them out."

"I'm so fucking sorry, I didn't—"

"Get them out! Take them. Throw them the fuck away. Get them out!"

"Jasper, are you okay?"

"No. Get them out, now!"

"Shit, okay, okay."

One by one, he takes the fucking paintings away, but it's not fast enough. I stand on shaky legs and look at the first one, but it's bitter. It's bitter and hateful and vengeful and it doesn't love me or want me. It's green and it's him, so I do what I impulsively want to.

I destroy it.

It destroys me.

But I can't stop. One by one, I kick through the paintings, tearing them from their frames and spreading wet paint on me and everywhere. Then I'm covered in green.

He's all over me.

He's all fucking over me.

I can't get away from it.

I can't run, I can't destroy it, I can't forget.

He destroyed me.

"Shit, Jasper," Emmett murmurs.

I don't realize I'm on the ground until he picks me up. I don't realize what the whooshing sound is until I see the water. I don't realize I'm bleeding until I see the red swirling with green down the drain. I don't realize it hurts at all, because all I can feel is the deep fissure where my missing pieces are.

I don't realize I'm talking until I hear myself speak. "I should have picked you."

Emmett smiles sadly down at me as he directs the water towards my leg. "You never would have loved me, Jazz."

"I should have tried."

He sighs and turns the water off. "That's not how it works. You can't pick who you love, it's nothing you can  _try_  to do. You never would have loved me and we both know that without love it's just sex. The sex probably wouldn't have even been good considering our kiss. We're just meant to be friends, Jasper. You were meant to love—"

"Don't." I can't. I can't hear his name.

"Jazz, this needs to stop." He grabs a towel from the cupboard and places it on the edge of the tub and motions for me to put my leg there. After inspecting it for a few moments, he says, "It's not too bad. Do you want me to drive you to the emergency room or will you let me fix it up?"

"You can, I trust you."

He smiles a very small smile for Emmett-standards, and I really look at him. His nose is healing, but his eye... His left eye is fucking purple and slightly bloody. It's recent. Really recent.

"What happened?"

The very small smile morphs into a slightly larger one. "Let's just say that here is not the first place I went looking for you."

That's all he needs to say for it to click. "Oh."

He nods. "Better me than you, I guess."

My first instinct is to immediately defend, to tell him  _he_ wouldn't ever hit me, but I realize that I don't know if that's true. He's hurt me in every other way, so what's to say he wouldn't?

"Why?" I ask.

Emmett seems to understand that I'm not asking why it's better he took the physical damage, but why he was hit in the first place. "Does he ever need a reason? He's violent, especially now. I'm pretty sure he was just happy as hell to have someone to take his anger out on. And like I said, better me than you. You wouldn't have fought back."

"Oh, God," I groan. "Did you hurt him?" I'm afraid he did, and I hate that I care so much that my stomach is in knots with concern.

"I wanted to, I wanted to rip his little fucking head off, but I couldn't. Well, I mean, I could, 'cause I did hit him back once, but then he started crying and I can't hit a dude who's crying."

"What?" I gasp. Crying? Edward? Jesus, how hard did he hit him?

"Yeah, I'm not supposed to tell anyone or he'll 'feed me my own balls for breakfast'. I think you deserve to know, though, Jasper. This is tearing him apart, he's not handling this shit between the two of you well at all. He looks fucking worse than you do, and you really look like shit, man.

"You guys need to fucking talk. You can't keep doing this to each other. This isn't how a relationship works, Jasper, you don't just run away when shit gets scary. You have to be there for each other, and explain shit, talk. Edward's an asshole, you know that. But he's a fucking asshole who loves you, just as much as you love him, so stop being a little bitch and get your shit together."

"He doesn't love me," I tell Emmett firmly. I know for damn sure he doesn't love me, he never did. You don't treat someone you love that way.

"Oh, fuck that, Jasper. You fucking know he loves you, you're just scared. Get your balls on. I'm not fixing this shit for you, you need to do it yourself. Only, wait until morning because he seriously fucking reeked of vodka. Plus, you really do look like shit. Facial hair does not work for your adorable baby face, just so you know."

"What makes you think he loves me? He was fucking terrible to me, you should have heard the shit he said."

"And what, you were Mr. Nice Guy through the whole ordeal? You can't point a finger at him without pointing one at yourself too. He loves you, Jazz, he doesn't know what the hell to do with himself now that you're gone. I'm sure he said some really shitty things to you, but we all say shit we don't mean when we're hurt. I'm sure you said some pretty fucking bad shit to him too, but that doesn't mean you don't love him, Jazzy."

"I do love him," I admit. I don't want to acknowledge it because I'm angry, but stupid Emmett, he just loves to bring shit out in the open. Or maybe I do just want to say it, finally.

"I know, babe. You're going to have to bite the bullet and go to him. If you love him, you're going to have to forgive him for some of the shit he does. No one is perfect and he is by far one of the most imperfect human beings I've ever met—despite his good looks. You're flawed too, and he's going to have to forgive you as well.  _That_ is how love works. Learn from your mistakes, learn with Edward, you two are like fucking peas in a pod and shit. Don't give up something so fucking special because you're stubborn and proud and hurting.

"Do you realize that you two have already done this shit once, only the other way around? He wouldn't let you explain and he left. Now this time, you wouldn't let him explain and you left."

"Is that what he told you?" I wonder. "That I wouldn't let him explain? I would have let him explain, he's the one who was shutting me out."

"How? How did he shut you out?"

"He wouldn't fucking talk to me. He just fucking said mean shit and called me names. He wouldn't apologize for being an asshole and he wouldn't  _really_ fucking talk to me."

"So you left?"

"I had to fucking leave, what else was I supposed to do? He fucking said he didn't care anymore."

"You left because he was being an asshole and he wouldn't apologize?"

"Yes!" I shout, starting to get a little pissed now. How many times did I have to say it?

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm fucking sure. He didn't  _want_  to be with me, he wouldn't fucking tell me what I needed to hear. He was being a coward."

"What did you need to hear, Jazzy?"

"Not that he didn't fucking care, not that I'm a fucking gold digger or an idiot or—"

"So what did you want to hear, exactly?"

"It doesn't fucking matter, he started this shit."

"I didn't ask who started it, I want to know, what did you need to hear, Jasper?"

"It doesn't fucking matter, Em. It's over now."

"It's over?" Emmett's voice rises considerably, and I can hear it in his tone that he is serious, he fucking means it. "I'm fucking ashamed of you, Jasper Whitlock. I thought you were a better fucking man than that. You are a fucking hypocrite and  _you_ are the one who is being the asshole. Yes, he pissed you off, yes, you had every right to leave, but don't you fucking call him a coward. This is fucking confusing as hell for him, and you know it, and  _you're_  the one giving up. He wants you back, and you're just going to throw the fucking towel in."

"He hasn't even come over, he's not trying very hard to get me back."

"Oh, you fucking prick. Is that what this is? You fucking want to see him come crawling back to you? Will that make you believe he wants you, Jazz? Just long enough for him to screw up again so you can throw it back at him and leave again? I have news for you, baby, the world doesn't revolve around you. You don't get to fucking play him that way."

"I'm not playing him!" I yell.

"Right now, the way it looks to me, yes, you are!  _You_  are playing him, just like he was afraid of. You're breaking his trust again, hurting him."

"No," I deny. I... I'm not playing him.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I just want him to tell me he's sorry, that he loves me."

"That's what you need to hear?"

"Yes," I cry, clinging to my chest because it feels like it's being ripped apart.

"Then stop being a hypocrite. Stop being a coward. Tell him first, Jazz. Don't fucking toy with him, he has no confidence in his ability to keep you around and you've given him no reason to trust you. He's scared to death of opening himself up to you for that exact reason. Edward is the type of person who thinks the whole world is out to hurt him, add to that the confusion of having feelings for someone he never expected to have feelings for, and you've got yourself one scared, temperamental, distrustful asshole.

"I know you don't know how to be in a relationship, but you know how to be patient, you know how to be understanding. Both of your feelings are involved; it's not just your heart that is going to get hurt, you're hurting him too. You can't forget that every time you feel that pang in your chest, the loss, he does too. You can't expect him to crawl back to you when he thinks  _you_  changed your mind. He has no idea how you feel. He's just as scared, helpless, and fucking clueless as you are. The only difference is you aren't confused, you are patient, and you aren't normally such an asshole."

His words hit me like a fucking anvil to the chest. It's a lot to think about. A lot. I don't know what to say. He's fucking right. He's so fucking right and that hurts just as much as the void in me where my vital organs belong—where Edward belongs.  _I_  fucking pushed  _him_ away, I hurt him, I fucking left, me. I'm the fucking one to blame. He did shit wrong too, but fuck, I screwed up royally. I was too busy wallowing in my own self-pity to even think about what I'd done.

"Thank you, Emmett, for everything," I say finally. "Did you give him the same talk?" I ask.

Emmett shrugs. "I was a bitch to him too, yes, but I may have went a little harder on you than him. He really is scared, you know, about all of this? If you're not up for his random freak outs, you should just leave him alone, Jazz, cause he doesn't deserve the heartache."

I shake my head. "No, I just really lost—"

"Don't explain it to me, Jasper. Tell your boy, he needs to hear it, not me. And speaking of boys, I need to get home to mine. The sky is looking fucking angry out there and I promised him dinner and a movie tonight."

"Your boy?" I ask inquisitively.

"Yes, my boy. Don't be so nosy, I'll tell you about it later. Call me when shit is better and we can hang out. I'll tell you all about him." He smiles and winks at me, and I grab his arm to stop him before he can leave.

"Wait. Just... thank you, Emmett. Thank you for being the best fucking friend ever and thank you for taking Edward's anger when it wasn't yours to take and thank you for making me see what an idiot I was and thank you for helping me get him back and—"

"Fuck, I get it. You're welcome, but I never said I helped you get him back. Don't fucking mention it, though, okay? Like seriously, don't. I don't want to taste my own balls and he's going to be pissed when he finds out what I did."

"What?" I ask.

Emmett just smiles. "Gotta run. Shave, you have a really bad case of the fug going on, sweetie."

"What the fuck did you do?" I yell after him, but all I get is a laugh and wave.

–

The pain in my chest has dissipated substantially since my talk with Emmett, but the hard, raw nervous feeling in my stomach is heavy like a deadweight. I don't know what Emmett did, and the thought fucking frightens me, though I don't think he would have jeopardized my chances in anyway. That's not even the half of it however. I'm so fucking scared of Edward right now.

Once again, I fucked up. We both acted out of fear and we both hurt each other, I guess we both fucked up, but I think I have once again taken the fuck-up trophy. I need him to forgive me, I'm so fucking terrified he won't. But Emmett says he loves me.

But Emmett also says he's going to be pissed about what he did. I don't even know what the fuck that means.

I sigh and try to stop worrying, but that's pretty fucking pointless. I've been worrying for hours already since Emmett left. I have at least twelve hours before I can even go to Edward's, but I can't sleep and I don't know what to do, so I worry.

I'm making myself sick to my damn stomach worrying. There's so much guilt and so much doubt, but there's hope, too. I have to believe he wants me back, I have to believe that I'm good enough for him, I have to believe that I didn't fuck this up so bad that it can't be repaired.

But I do doubt myself, I wonder if I really deserve the chance. What if I fuck up again? What if I can't do it? What if I was never meant to love anyone at all? What if I keep fucking hurting him? I don't want to hurt him.

Giving up now would hurt him, so I can't do that. Every time shit gets bad, I just have to remember how much I love him. I do fucking love him, so much. That is what matters.

Nevertheless, I still start to panic.

I force myself to go back to my painting room. I make myself sit down and paint. But the paintings are still ridiculously shitty and I'm sick of blue. I want green.

I want green and there is barely any left. So I mix a little with white, a little with black, and a little with blue, which leaves me with three different greens. I paint the first thing that comes to mind when I think of green.

 _I love Edward Anthony Masen Cullen—_ Christ, he has a long motherfucking name.

 _I love his eyes._

 _I love the way he smells._

 _I love his smile._

 _I love his ridiculous hair._

 _I love his dirty mouth._

 _I love his pubes._

I paint everything I love about him, down to the little fucking mole right above his ass crack.

My iPod is blaring sappy love songs in my ears and by the time that I think I'm finished, my cheeks are killing me because I've been smiling so damn much. The canvas is covered in green, green words about him—it's very Edward. I love it.

I roll my neck around, loosening some of the kinks and pluck one of the earbuds out of my ears.

 _Thud thud thud thud thud thud..._

Christ, what the fuck is that?

I jump up off of my stool, toss my iPod aside, and listen, and the banging doesn't stop. It doesn't even falter. It's continuous and loud, and I realize that it's at my front door. Whoever it is knocking is pissed off. I consider not answering it, but I can't just fucking ignore it, it might be important. It's probably the police doing a courtesy check because someone called about my car being parked haphazardly in the same place for over a week. I have to answer it or they're going to bust that fucker in looking for me, expecting to find me dead or some shit.

I stop in the bathroom on my way to the door to wash the paint off of my hands and to make sure that I don't look like a zombie or something. I took Emmett's advice and showered and shaved after he left, because he was right, I looked fucking terrible. I still look pretty shitty, compared to how I usually look, but at least I'm not at zombie status anymore.

It's pouring fucking rain outside, I wonder if the police are really that worried. Just as I'm walking through the mudroom towards the door, the knocking stops. Everything goes fucking quiet and I freeze, staring at the door.

I suddenly feel like I've just stepped into a slasher film and I expect my lights to go out. It thunders really loudly and the lights flicker. I shriek, quickly turning around to make sure no one is behind me. There isn't anyone there, of course, but holy shit. I haven't lost power yet, but fuck, I fucking hate scary movies and I feel like I'm in one. If my power goes out, I'm going to huddle in a corner and cry like a fucking baby. I don't want to die—and I really don't want to be cut into little pieces.

The knocking doesn't start again and I'm just fucking standing there staring at the door. Would I be an idiot to open it? Or am I being an idiot for not opening it? It's not like it's likely there will be a murderer there, but what if there is?

My palms are sweaty, my hands are shaking, and my heart is racing. I'm so fucking afraid to open the door. But I fucking have to. I look out the side window first, but there is no one parked even remotely near my driveway. I think that makes it worse.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Okay, I can do this. It might be psycho James coming to kill me, but I can fucking do this. I'll just scream and start hitting if whoever it is tries to attack me. I'm pretty decent-sized, I'm not like fucking tiny, I can totally take them. Unless they look like Emmett, in which case I'm fucked.

I force my hand to be steady and I slowly unlock the door. Carefully, I open it, as cautiously and quietly as I can. I should have turned on the fucking porch light.

There, standing in the rain, is a man with his head bowed, dark hair shielding his face. He's drenched and shivering and he has something clenched in his hand.

A fucking knife.

Oh, wait, those are flowers.

Flowers?

"Ah!"

"Jesus Christ!" I gasp, jumping backwards, startled by the surprised yell from the man before me.

The man has green eyes; familiar green eyes. Angry, cold, frightening green eyes.

"Fuck, Jasper," he hisses.

A lump immediately forms in my throat. It's Edward, he's here, and he's fucking angry, but I don't care. He's here, and that's all that matters. I'm just so fucking happy to see him. If he wants to yell at me for what an asshole I was to him, he can.

"Shit, no, I'm sorry," Edward says quietly, his face instantly softening. He thrusts the flowers in his hand out at me. "Here, I brought you these. I don't know if you like flowers or what kinds or anything, but I saw these and I thought of you because they're pretty and they smell nice. I mean, fuck, I sound like such an idiot, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing," he mutters.

I'm completely dumbfounded. He bought me flowers? That's so fucking sweet, no one has ever done that for me before! And he called me pretty! And he thinks I smell nice.

"What I'm trying to fucking say is that I'm sorry for the shit I said, Jasper. I'm so fucking sorry. You don't have to let me in, I don't expect you to, I just want you to know that I'll fucking stand out here in the rain every fucking day freezing my ass off for you if I have to. I don't want us to be over. I want you back. Please."

A fucking stupid smile overtakes my face. I want to tell him that I feel the same way, but I'm fucking speechless and the damn smile is so big I can't talk anyway. He apologized, he wants me back, he even said please!

"You don't have to answer right now, you can think about it if you want to. Here, just take these, and I'll... go."

What? No. Why am I still standing here like a retard? Jesus, he looks cold.

He reaches in hesitantly and places the flowers on my table where I usually set my keys and other shit. "I'll see you around, okay? You can call me if you want."

Holy shit, say something! "Wait, Edward, don't go," I call as he starts to turn around to leave.

He turns back towards me, a sad smile on his face. "It's okay, Jasper, you're not ready yet, I understand."

"No, you don't fucking understand," I insist with a stomp of my foot.

His mouth quirks, and his nose fucking crinkles, and he so wants to laugh at me for stomping my fucking foot, but he doesn't. The quirk disappears and he just frowns, all amusement gone. "It's okay, I won't give up, I'll be back so we can talk when you're ready. I can... I  _can_ be tolerant."

"No, it's not okay. I fucked up,  _I_ fucking failed you, again."

"Jasper—"

"No! Let me say this." I take a deep breath and look into his eyes, and I know. I don't just feel it, I know it. That void, it's gone, and it disappeared the second I saw his face. I can't fucking  _live_ without him, I can't  _breathe_  without him. I need him. "I love you and I'm sorry," I say.

"What?" he asks breathlessly.

I swallow and repeat, "I'm sorry."

He flails his hand in my direction, staring at me with wide eyes. "No, the other part."

"It'll never happen again," I promise.

"You didn't even fucking say that the first time!" he yells, slightly hysterical.

I smile and tell him what he apparently wants to hear, again. "I love you."

He hits me faster and harder than I expect him to. The movement is swift and full force. He just fucking barrels into me, like as hard as he fucking can, I swear.

I gasp and lose my balance because I haven't slept or eaten and I've turned into a sissy. I nearly fucking fall, but he catches me. He presses his mouth to mine, hard. He's soaking wet and he's so fucking cold, but his mouth is hot on mine and his hands are everywhere they can reach.

"Fucking missed you so much," he mumbles into my mouth, kissing me impossibly harder.

I moan and grip his neck, and his skin is like ice. God, I hadn't even noticed that he is still shivering. Jesus, he's going to get sick.

I pull away from his mouth and he tries to follow, obviously not wanting to end the kiss. "Hey," I say. "We need to get you out of these clothes."

His eyes open slowly to meet mine, and I swear, they're on fire. Can green eyes be on fire? Maybe they're smoldering. Whatever, they're just fucking hot. "Okay," he says deeply. "You too."

Huh? He starts pulling my shirt off before it clicks. "Oh, fuck, that's not what I meant, you pervert," I laugh, tossing my shirt into the washer anyway because it's all wet from him. "You're dripping wet and freezing, you need to get out of these clothes before you catch pneumonia."

"Oh," he says, looking sad.

I lean back in to kiss him again and unbutton his pants while I suck on his perfect fucking bottom lip. He seems to think I changed my mind because he's pushing my pants down. I just let him, since those are wet from him too, but he better not go for the undies. He doesn't, not right away at least, but he does opt to squeeze my ass.

I have to remind myself repeatedly that we are  _not_ having sex tonight.

His wet jeans pool around his ankles and get caught on his shoes, so I break the kiss and kneel before him. I'm pretty sure he's trying to put his cock right in my face. Maybe it's just my imagination. Either way, it takes me forever to get his shoes untied and off because my eyes keep wandering. He takes the liberty to peel his shirt off and my eyes greedily roam up to take all of him in again. I gasp at what I find.

Low on his right ribs is a fucking huge horrible, painful looking purple bruise. "Emmett," I growl.

"What, did he fucking sign it too?" Edward asks, looking down at the bruise.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

He runs his fingers through my hair and nods. "I don't think he broke anything. I'll be fine."

"Okay," I sigh. I lean in and carefully kiss the skin right below the bruise and he shudders—and I don't think it's from the cold, though it's definitely possible since his skin is covered in goose bumps. "Let's get you warmed up," I say, kissing again.

"You're doing a pretty good job of warming me up," he replies and I glance down.

Well, he's not lying, but I think only one certain part of his body is feeling warm right now. "I see that," I reply, "but I think that maybe we should concern ourselves with your health right now and deal with your sexual health a little later."

"Both are important," he says.

I roll my eyes up at him and lean in and kiss his stomach once more, though this time I can't resist flicking my tongue out and tasting his fucking delicious abs. They tense under my tongue and his eyes grow unbearably more seductive as he watches me lick him.

 _Fuuuuck_.

"Mm," I moan quietly as I pull away and stand up. "You taste good there too."

He huffs when I grab his hand and start leading him through the house. "You're a fucking tease, Jasper."

"I know," I sigh. "I'm really sorry Emmett hit you." I try to remember that Emmett was just fighting back and that he really did help, but fuck, he hurt my boy. I want to tear his balls off for that.

"It's not your fault. He's got one fucking hell of an uppercut."

"It is my fault, if I wouldn't have been such an idiot—"

"Shh, baby, it's not your fault," he cuts me off.

I frown over my shoulder at him and he gives me this encouraging smile that doesn't help at all. I bring him back to my master bathroom and quickly get the hot water going in the shower.

"Are you going to come in with me, keep me warmed up?" he asks, sticking his fingers into the underwear over my hipbones.

I have to fight to keep control over my body, I so desperately want to grind against him right now. But, God, we can't do this tonight. Not after what happened and not with him being half-hypothermic.

"I'll go get you something warm to wear," I say, avoiding his question and answering it at the same time. I kiss him chastely but he doesn't really respond to it.

He has this miserable, heartbroken look on his face, and it makes me pause, a chill of fear running down my spine.

"Did what I said hurt you too much? Do you not want me this way anymore?" he asks quietly.

"No, Edward," I sigh, reaching for his hand. "We both said some hurtful things, but you can't change the way I feel about you. I'll always want you, in every way."

"Are you sure?" he pries with trembling lips.

"Yes," I say adamantly.

"You were right," he whispers. "I was pushing you away and when I said that, I remember thinking that I had to do anything I could to make you stay. I might as well have just told you to leave for saying what I said. I didn't even realize what I was saying, how fucking wrong it was for me to say it. I'm so sorry, I'll never use sex against you like that again. I'm so fucking sorry."

I squeeze his hand, and his lips are trembling so fucking hard, I just want him to get in the shower, but he seems to think he has to say everything right now.

"I just need you to know, Jasper, I want to be with you. I want to have sex with you. I do care, very much, about you and us, and I want us to be together."

"I know," I reassure him. "We'll have plenty of time to talk and work shit out tomorrow, okay? Please, just  _please_ get in the shower now."

He smiles a little. "I'm not that cold."

"My fucking ass you're not that cold, you're practically fucking blue! Just fucking get in there and get warm. I'll bring you clothes and we'll fucking go to bed and sleep, cause I'm fucking tired and I need you, so please."

He nods and grasps my neck, pulling my mouth to his. Once again his mouth is hot and soft, yet so hard, and he really tastes good. I can feel him shifting and I think he's taking off his boxer-briefs, but I'm not sure until he is putting them in my hands. Then he turns and I watch his bare ass disappear behind my frosted glass shower door. And I'm kicking myself in the nuts for giving up the chance to be in there, soaping up that perfect, tight little ass.

I take his underwear back out to the washing machine then head back to my room to find him something to wear. I dig around in my pajama drawer and find some flannel pants that I've probably wore like once—I really prefer nudity. I find him one of my favorite black v-necks and then I bite the bullet and go back into my bedroom to find his favorite underwear. They're his, he should have them back, and now that I have him to snuggle with again, they'll basically be useless to me.

I fold all of the stuff up nicely, for whatever reason, and carry it into the bathroom. I'm not moving very quietly and I assume he hears me in there, but he moans and I wonder if maybe he doesn't. But then I assume that maybe he's just enjoying his shower. I think about it though, and that really didn't sound like a 'well, this feels nice' moan. It was more of a 'oh my God, that feels amazing' moan—and I know his moans.

He moans again and this one is more of a 'yeah, that's the fucking spot, baby' moan.

"Are you masturbating?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah," he answers, like he totally doesn't give a shit that I know. He probably doesn't though. I've seen him cum before, and he was obviously horny when he got in the shower. I'm not sure why I'm so surprised. "Does that bother you?"

"No, shit no, I'm just surprised," I admit.

"Why? You can't seriously expect me to have been able to sleep with the raging hard-on you gave me. I'm getting nice and hot, just like you wanted," he snickers.

I realize a little belatedly that he's going to smell like my soap when he gets out of there. The thought drives me crazy and I slip out of the bathroom. I grab a handful of tissues from the nightstand and dig around in the drawer for some lube and squirt some into my palm.

My useless dick has been fully resurrected. It's harder than ever and has been since Edward started kissing me again. He's absolutely fucking right, we both need to ease some of the tension if we're going to sleep together without humping first.

I can hear the shower running from my room so I sit down on my bed with my back facing the door, just in case. I slide my underwear just low enough that they won't hinder my movement and groan quietly as soon as my slick hand is wrapped around my cock.

I fall back on my elbow, half-reclining, and I suddenly care if he catches me about as much as he did that I caught him. What's the worse thing that can happen if your boyfriend catches you jerking off anyway?

It takes an embarrassingly short time for me to get off, but I blame it on the fact that I haven't cum since our last dry hump on his couch. It fucking exhausts me and I can barely manage to clean myself up before I climb under the covers.

The shower finally shuts off about five minutes later and it takes Edward another ten minutes to finally come out. I'm just trying not to fall asleep without him.

He laughs when he sees me in bed. "You look like you just got laid," he says.

"Mm, you too," I mumble.

He snorts and I hold the blanket up for him. He climbs in and we both gravitate towards each other, enveloping with arms and legs and lips. He does smell like my shampoo and he's wearing my clothes and it's probably the hottest thing ever. He's still shivering though, so I can ignore the hot for the cold.

"I really missed you," he whispers, kissing my throat lightly.

"I missed you too, baby. I love you," I whisper back.

His breath catches and I hear him swallow. "I love you too," he mouths. I don't know that I actually hear the words, but I feel them. I feel his lips move and even if it's not really what he said, I can feel it in the way he's holding me.

I know he loves me.

I tuck my face into his ever chaotic hair—which smells like my shampoo!—and I drift.


	9. Chapter 9

I wake up to my bed shifting and open my eyes just in time to see Edward digging my pajama bottoms out of his ass. The morning wedgie—the reason I usually sleep nude, or one of them. He walks into my bathroom and doesn't even bother shutting the door.

It makes me smile.

"I can see you," I say. I honestly can. Even though the toilet is placed behind a wall, I can see him waist up from my bed because of the mirrors. I swear I didn't do that on purpose...

He meets my eyes in the mirror and leans his arm up against the side wall. "Enjoy the show then, baby."

I don't, because someone watching me pee makes me feel kind of awkward. I roll over to check the time. It's still fucking early, why am I awake? I hear the toilet flush and smile.  _That's_  why I'm up so fucking early, and I'll gladly get up at this time every morning if I get to see him picking his morning wedgie.

He washes his hands, then I hear him making his way back to bed and I internally cringe, because I hate cold, wet hands. He's just so fucking perfect though, he doesn't touch me with them, even when he drapes his arm around my waist.

I scoot back so he's pressed all the way against me and hum contentedly as he places kisses along my shoulder. "I like being the little spoon," I tell him.

He chuckles and somehow manages to get me closer to him. "You mean you like being the one who gets the reach around."

I roll my eyes behind my lids, too lazy to even open them right now. He's such a pervert, I fucking love it. "That too," I confess. I can feel him smiling as he continues to kiss along my shoulder and neck. I could fall right the fuck back asleep, it's so nice. "It's early," I mumble.

"I know, I didn't mean to wake you," he whispers back.

"You don't have to work or go to school today, do you?" I ask, suddenly very awake.

"No, it's Saturday, Jasper."

I knew that... "Oh. But, I mean, you probably have like homework and shit."

"Not so much," he mumbles.

"Are you lying?" I wonder.

"We'll talk about it later, okay?"

I don't really like the sound of that, but he puts his head down on the pillow right behind mine and he's holding me, so I just shut my mind off. For now, I don't want to worry about anything. I'm right where I belong, he's with me, that's all that matters.

–

I groan and roll over, but only find cold bed on either side of me. Where the fuck is he? There was no fucking way that was a dream. I sit up and notice SpongeBob is on the TV. Edward is sitting in the overstuffed chair in the corner, smirking at me, a spoonful of cereal half-raised toward his mouth.

"Are you looking for something?" he asks.

I lazily crawl out of bed and walk over to him. Without hesitance, I climb onto his lap and snuggle into his warm chest.

"I guess you found what you were looking for, huh?" he asks when I don't answer him. I nod into his chest and he chuckles. "Did you sleep good?" he asks, somewhat amusedly. I nod. "You're a snuggler in the morning, aren't you?" Again, I nod. "Do you want me to come back to bed with you to snuggle?"

Oh my fucking God. He is so sweet. "I love you," I practically moan, attacking his mouth and nearly making him spill his cereal milk all over the place.

First the flowers— Oh, shit, the flowers! "I'm such a bad boyfriend," I groan, pushing away from him.

"What? No, Jasper, that was good. Wait, where the fuck are you going?" he yells after me as I haul ass to find the flowers he brought me and I abandoned.

"Shit," I whine when I see them. They're all wilted. I am such a bad boyfriend! I carefully pick them up, but that's no good anyway because they're frickin' shriveled and gross already. Edward walks in and I feel even worse. "I'm so sorry," I snivel.

"They're just flowers," he says with a shrug.

"No, they aren't. They are the sweetest thing ever, no one has ever bought me flowers before and now I know why! Look what I did to them!"

"Jasper, are you PMS'ing?"  _Do not throw the flowers at him..._  "Come on, baby, just give me the flowers and I'll toss them. It's not a big deal, I'll buy you some more if you want. Besides, there were more dire situations to deal with."

"How are you feeling?" I ask, since he brought it up.

He rolls his eyes. "I'm fine. Christ, you are a mother hen."

I want to tell him that if I were a mother hen, I'd be checking his temperature right now, rectally. I decide to forgo that little rant, but only because I killed his flowers and he stood in the rain for me. "I'm sorry, I just love you, you know. I don't want you to get sick because of me. I'm sorry I didn't hear you knocking sooner. I had my iPod on while I painted."

"I didn't know you paint, I thought you just drew," he says.

I shrug. "I don't paint, I'm terrible at it, I just had to do... something."

His eyes instantly move down and he frowns. "I'm sorry, Jasper. I'm so sorry for the way I was to you."

"No, baby, it wasn't you. I was scared, so fucking scared that you were going to take an out after your brother almost caught us. I panicked, I thought you were going to tell me to get the hell out and never come back, and I fucking reacted so terribly. If you ever needed me, it was probably right then, and I fucking left you."

Edward comes over to me, he doesn't touch me, just stands there directly in front of me. "I did push you away."

I shake my head. "It doesn't matter, I shouldn't have just fucking left. I..."

"We both screwed up, baby. You can't shoulder all of this."

"Okay," I mutter. "I forgive you."

He chuckles and shakes his head, then bites his lip and wraps his arm around my neck. "I forgive you too. And I think we should go tell my brother, like right now, because I think he thinks I'm dead."

–

Edward explained that he basically went into hermit mode just as badly as I did when we... separated. He didn't fucking go to work or school, which is why he didn't have any homework. Carlisle tried to call him repeatedly and also stopped over, but Edward avoided him at all costs.

I agreed that he should definitely go see his brother immediately. I was less insistent on the fact that he break the news about us, but he wouldn't be swayed. He said he wasn't going to hide me like a whore, he was fucking proud to be with someone so amazing. It was a real display. I couldn't exactly say no, especially since he refused to leave without me.

"Stop fidgeting."

"I'm not," I mutter.

I check to make sure my shirt is buttoned the right way again and pull down the mirror to check my hair, but it's still okay.

"Jasper, you look fine, stop."

"Just watch the road," I mumble, checking my shoelaces.

"I am watching the road," he says. "I can do both."

I give him a glare and he smiles crookedly at me. It's unfair that he's so good looking, he could get away with murder. I pull the mirror down again, not at all confident that my hair is behaving.

"Christ, Jasper, you're going to break the fucking thing if you don't leave it alone." I think he means my hair, but he's glancing kind of worriedly at the visor. He's so fucking infatuated with this car, it's ridiculous. He practically fucking kissed it and apologized to it for leaving it on the street over night in the rain. It would have been sad if he didn't look so fucking hot petting the hood.

I just get that stupid out-of-place hair where it needs to be when Edward makes a sharp fucking turn and I fuck my hair up again. "Jesus, what the—"

His mouth covers mine, cutting me off. His hand is flexed on my neck, pulling me roughly closer, though I don't know that it's even possible that I can get any closer with the console between us, but I try. We're both anxious and nervous, but the kiss is hot and needy, I hope it never ends. But it does.

And when I turn back to check my hair again, I discover he has put the visor back up, and when I reach to put it down, he snaps at me.

"Don't fucking touch it, we're here, you look fine. Now get the fuck out."

My mouth drops open and I turn to stare at him disbelievingly, but he's already getting out. He freezes once he's about halfway out though and falls back into the car, closing the door again.

"Shit, baby, I'm sorry," he says, turning to look at me apologetically. "That didn't come out right."

"That came out exactly like you meant it to." Pure unadulterated fear flashes across his face and I lean over to kiss him. "I've never met the family before so I'm sorry that I'm being annoying, I'm fucking nervous too. Just, don't snap at me like that, it doesn't help, okay?"

"I'm sorry, you know I don't think before I open my mouth most of the time. I promise I'll behave." I cock an eyebrow and he grimaces. "Okay, I probably won't behave, but I'll try not to take my shit out on you. You don't deserve it and it's not fair that I snap at you, I'm really sorry if I say anything that upsets you. You already met Carlisle, he likes you, and Esme is a fucking peach, you don't have anything to worry about. Now kiss me again, because I fucking need some courage."

I don't think he realizes that he contradicted himself by saying I have nothing to worry about but that he is indeed worried. If he has reason to be nervous, I do too. But I buck up for him, he needs me and I'm not backing down this time.

I kiss him, releasing all of my fear and nerves into the kiss. It starts frantic, and when I slide my palm down to his throat, I can feel his blood hammering in his veins. His heart is racing, and I want him to know I love him, that I  _really_  love him. I push my hand down further, into the top of his black button up and rub my thumb over the skin where his heart is. He sighs, and the kiss slows.

I don't even realize that we've been sitting in front of the house for about ten minutes making out until there is a sharp rap on the window. Edward tenses up and growls, then pulls away. "The windows are tinted too dark to see in here, otherwise I would just call that good and drive away."

I roll my eyes and lick my lips, tasting him there.

He utterly fucking surprises me by saying, "I love you."

My eyes dart to his and my throat constricts and I understand why he had to swallow so thickly last night before he barely whispered it back. It wasn't because he was nervous or didn't want to say it back. Hearing it just put that Holy Shit feeling in your stomach and made your throat tight and your head swim.

My mouth is dry and I'm swallowing even though there isn't even a drop of saliva to go down. "Fuck," I laugh. Nothing like being choked up.

He laughs too and reaches toward my face. I don't even realize there is wet there until he brushes the tear away and I duck my head in embarrassment. He leans in and kisses my forehead and it makes it even fucking harder not to cry because I'm so fucking happy, he's so fucking sweet. I laugh some more trying to keep the fucking tears at bay and there is another pound on the window.

"Does he have to hit my fucking car?" Edward hisses.

I sniffle a little and smile at him. "Come on, baby, let's do this."

I get out of the car first, and Carlisle looks shocked to see me. "Jasper, hello. I, uh, it's nice to see you again."

"Thanks, you too."

"Yeah, yeah, let's go inside," Edward says, closing the car door carefully.

"Of course it's nice to see you too, Edward. How long has it been now? A week? Without a call or anything? Where the hell have you been? We've been worried sick!"

"I'm an adult," Edward mutters, catching my eye and jerking his head toward the house.

I guess that means I'm supposed to follow. Carlisle is ranting behind us as he follows toward the house, I don't think he even grasps neither of us are paying attention—actually, I don't think he's even taking a breath. There is a beautiful dark-haired woman standing in the front door, a stern look on her face. I think she has to be Esme, but the pictures I saw of her didn't do her justice at all. She practically glows, like a fucking angel or something.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Edward react to her. His eyes move to the ground and his shoulders drop, then he does his lip-out pout and  _I_ almost melt, even though it isn't directed at me. I hear her sigh from the doorway and her heels click loudly across the patio as she runs toward us. She wraps her arms around Edward's head and hugs him tight, maternally, almost aggressively.

"I've been worried sick," she bemoans.

"I know," Edward says, hugging her back. "That's him," I hear him whisper.

"What?" Esme asks confusedly, glancing at me.

" _Him_ ," Edward whispers meaningfully.

I shift awkwardly as Esme stares at me in bewilderment. Her eyes pop open wide and a surprised, "Oh!" comes out of her mouth. Edward chuckles and nods. " _Him..._  Good for you," she says honestly, releasing Edward.

"I'm Esme," she says, stretching her hand out to me.

"Jasper," I offer, reaching out to take her hand.

She grabs it and pulls, unexpectedly hard, and then I'm in her arms. "Thank you," she breathes. "You make him happy."

I squeeze her and whisper, "He makes me happy too."

I glance up at Edward and he's watching us with a smile.

"Ah, Esme, I see you've met Jasper," Carlisle says.

His ranting had been a continuous stream up until that point. I had heard a lot of 'the firm' and 'your father' but besides that, I paid as much attention to him as he did to our whispering.

"Yes," Esme says. "He's just wonderful," she tells Carlisle and I blush.

She's accepting us with open arms. That's a good sign. I think. I really like her. She leads us into the house and Carlisle is yelling a torrent of non-curse words at Edward. It's mildly ridiculous.

"Shut up!" Edward finally snaps. "Shut the fuck up, Carlisle! I know I'm fucking in trouble, but you aren't my fucking father. I will deal with him on Monday."

Carlisle huffs and turns away from his brother to face me. "How are you, Jasper?"

"Oh, um, good," I answer awkwardly.

"We have something to tell you," Edward says uncertainly, edging over toward me. I snort and his eyes snap towards me. "Shut up," he whispers, biting back a smile.

Fucking seriously? 'We have something to tell you'? What am I, pregnant? Anticlimactic much?

"So, I know that when you met Jasper I told you he was my friend, but that wasn't the whole truth," Edward says to his brother, who frankly is looking way too confused. Edward's hand slides into mine and I clasp our fingers tightly together. "We are a, uh, couple."

Carlisle stares at us for a moment, taking in our entwined fingers, then his face falls. "Damn it," he mutters and my heart sinks. "Don't tell me this," he pleads. "Everyone experiments at your age, you don't need to tell me about it. I need to talk to you in my office alone, Edward." He turns and starts walking away.

Edward fucking loses it. "Fuck you," he spits, rushing at his brother. His fingers pull roughly from mine, jerking me forward, and I move to stop him, but there is a warm hand on my arm and Esme is there, watching closely. We both watch as Edward shoves Carlisle forward. "Don't you fucking tell me what I can and can't do! He's not some fucking experiment, I wouldn't have brought him here if he was. We're together, get the fuck over it."

Carlisle sighs and turns around, looking past Edward at me. "Edward, please go to my office."

"No, fuck you," he snarls.

Carlisle looks at Edward quickly, but then moves his eyes back to me. "Please," he says. Edward, predictably, doesn't move. I don't know if Carlisle is trying to silently tell me to leave Edward alone or what, but it's making me uncomfortable. "Jasper, please understand—"

"No," Edward shouts, "don't you fucking talk to him. Don't you look at him. He's my boyfriend, I love him, and until you can respect that you don't get the fucking  _privilege_  of being able to address him."

Carlisle rolls his eyes at Edward. "You're even more over-dramatic than your mother."

Edward looks really pissed. Esme lets go of my arm and rushes between her husband and her... brother-in-law, I guess—she really seems more like a mother to him. "Don't talk about my mother," Edward yells, looking as if he's only controlling his anger so Esme doesn't get caught in the middle.

"Jasper," Carlisle starts again, this time moving forward to place a hand on my shoulder. Edward is freaking out and Esme is holding him back, telling him to calm down. It's nerve-wracking to say the least. "I want you to know that I respect you very much, and I'm sorry if you feel like I've disrespected you and your relationship with my brother, but please understand that even though I respect you, there are others that cannot know about this. I am thrilled that Edward has you, but please, don't ask him to tell anyone else. I know it sounds terrible for me to ask that of you, your love should be something you can share willingly with all, but my father is a close-minded bigot and he will ruin both of you. Edward has worked very hard to get where he is, don't ask him to come out to my father, or he will take everything away from him."

Carlisle was ready to keep going, but Edward interrupted with something other than yelled curse words. "Okay, okay," he concedes. "Your office, don't do this to him," he appeals.

"I  _do_  respect you," Carlisle says, almost pleadingly as he squeezes my shoulder.

"I'll be right there," Edward says tersely as Carlisle passes him.

"I'll give you two a moment," Esme mutters. She gives me a smile and says, "I'll be right in here, you can come visit with me if you want."

Edward looks tortured and it's heartbreaking. My stomach is in my throat and I can barely breath. He's walking toward me and I'm so fucking afraid it isn't even funny.

"I shouldn't have made you come with me," he says sadly, slowly stepping in closer to me, cautiously.

I reach for him, needing to feel it, needing to feel him. He pulls me close, and I do feel it, I feel the love, but I'm still barely breathing.

"Don't let him make you question us," he begs. "Please."

I shake my head. "I'm not questioning us, I'm just scared," I admit.

"Don't be. Don't be afraid of him, don't be afraid that I'll change my mind. You have to know by now that when I want something, I get it."

I smile, despite my fear. "Spoiled."

"Maybe," he allows. "But I know I want you, and I'm not changing my mind, I don't care what he says. I'm not fickle."

"Stubborn."

He laughs. "I prefer tenacious. And are you complaining?"

"Definitely not."

"Good," he says. "I'll get my ass chewed and then we can leave, okay?" I frown and I think he feels it against his neck because he pulls back to look at me. "Don't worry about it, I get these 'You're a Cullen, people expect certain things of you' talks like once a week." My frown deepens and he laughs. "What can I say? I'm just a big troublemaker."

"Naughty boy," I whisper with a smirk.

He snorts. "I'll show you naughty."

Oh, boy, does he ever. The way he kisses me should be illegal, at least in public. It also helps to alleviate some of my fear, though I don't like the circumstances we are now in at all. It's not that I mind keeping our relationship quiet, it's the chance that if Ed Senior finds out he'll hurt Edward that frightens me.

"I'll be right back, baby. Go chat with Esme."

"Okay," I breathe.

Esme is waiting for me in the kitchen. She seems to be a fairly modest woman in her designer jeans and blouse. The only thing really over stated about her is her high heels and the giant rock on her finger. I think she's pretty okay.

"Hi, Jasper," she says.

"Hello, Esme," I reply.

"Come have a seat with me, I made you a drink." I hesitate, eying the drink greedily. "What's wrong?" she asks.

I frown and take the seat next to her, grabbing the drink and sipping it curiously. It's gin and tonic, which really doesn't taste that great to me, but I could use some alcohol right now.

"Nothing, thank you."

She smiles sadly and throws her arm over my shoulder, hugging me into her side. "Sweetie, my husband is a good man and he didn't mean you any disrespect at all. If Edward lets you get to know us, I'm sure you'll learn that for yourself."

"Lets me?" I press.

She nods. "He's probably going to be angry at us for a while because of this, which in turn means you most likely won't be spending any time around us, though you're more than welcome."

I glance nervously in the direction Edward disappeared to and Esme squeezes my shoulders. "Hey, he'll be fine. Carlisle rarely even raises his voice and all he's doing in there is some damage control. I think he's just upset that Edward now made him liable if Ed finds out. This family has a lot of secrets, Jasper, we learn to hide them well. And ask."

"Ask what?"

She squeezes my shoulder again and smiles over at me. "That question that is eating you alive right now."

I gulp down a mouthful of my drink and turn my head to look at her. "Does he expect me to leave him?"

Esme just continues to smile at me, and I hope that's good—she doesn't really seem the sadistic type. "Absolutely not, darling. To be perfectly honest, I'm almost positive he wants the exact opposite." I feel my brow creasing in confusion, and before I can ask, Esme says, "I'll tell you why. He's very important to us, you know. He's like the child I could never have. Such a curse, isn't it? Irina not being able to carry to term and myself not being able to bear one at all. The only difference is that I accepted Edward as my own when she would not. I digress, my point is that both Carlisle and I love Edward very much, and it was abundantly clear to me the minute you walked into his life that something changed in him. He's not a very happy person, he's kind of miserable, actually."

She sighs. "You're good for him. You take away the misery, you make him smile. Really smile. Do you know how long it's been since I've seen him really smile? Am I depressing you?"

"A little. It's really sad," I say.

She nods. "He was always been a good boy. Very independent and a little on the wild side, but such a good boy. He deserves happiness. What I mean is that Carlisle and I will do everything we can to keep you both safe, but you're going to have to do the same too. Edward can't lose his temper with Ed and rub this in his face, or he will get his ass handed to him—excuse my language, Edward started me on that terrible habit."

I laugh and she joins. "He's a sweetheart, isn't he?" she asks. I nod, because he really is. "But he just grinds you to the core sometimes, doesn't he?" Oh, Christ, I hope she isn't talking about what I think she is... I nod, because I think she means that he pisses me off, which he does sometimes. I totally was thinking about  _grinding_ though. His perverseness is rubbing off on me—rubbing off...

Esme is talking and I pick up on what she is saying mid-sentence after my mind wandered to sex. "...But no one is asking you to leave him, Jasper, least of all us. Just keep him happy, okay?"

"That I can do," I promise.

"What can you do?" Edward asks. My eyes dart to him, scanning him worriedly, but he seems to be okay. He doesn't look too pissed off and Carlisle is right behind him, I think that's a good sign.

"Back flips off the high dive," I lie.

Edward snorts. "Liar, but I'd like to see you try. What can you really do?"

"Keep you happy," I tell him.

He frowns at Esme then smiles at me and waggles his eyebrows. "That you definitely can do."

"Don't make sex jokes in front of my wife," Carlisle chastises.

Edward rolls his eyes. "I wasn't, you pervert." He throws a wink at me, which for some reason makes Esme giggle. "You, have had too much to drink and it's barely noon," he says, pointing at Esme.

"It's three in the afternoon," Carlisle points out.

"Whatever," Edward mutters, reaching forward and grabbing Esme's drink. "Love you, Es, you lightweight. We're leaving." He throws the drink back in one swallow and grimaces. "Was she making you drink that shit?"

I shrug and swirl my drink around, not too interested in it anymore. "You shouldn't drink and drive," Esme scolds.

Edward laughs. "Yeah, I know, I might hit a bump and spill. That's why I took my sip here." He grabs my hand and pulls. "Let's go, sexy."

Sexy, eh? Nice. I lean over and peck Esme on the cheek, thanking her quietly. She smiles widely and I sigh because Edward is jerking on my arm repeatedly like a damn four-year-old.

"Okay, okay," I laugh.

"Toodles," Edward calls.

"Toodles?" I laugh incredulously.

"Yes, fucking toodles. You've said that shit before so shut up. You rub off on me." I raise a very suggestive brow at him and he starts laughing. "Shut up!" He laughs again, pushing me out the front door.

Once in the car, Edward asks me, "How are you?"

"I'm good, you?"

He rolls his eyes at me. "I'm not playing pleasantries, I want to know how you really are, the truth."

"I told you, I'm good. How are you?"

He stares at me for a few seconds then throws the car into reverse and peels out of the driveway. He drives like a fucking maniac—I never realized what an amazing tool the 'oh shit' bar was until the first time I got in the car with Edward behind the wheel. "I'm good too, I guess. I don't know why you're lying to me though."

"I'm not lying," I say honestly. "I'm fine with whatever. We're together, that's all that matters."

"You sure?" he asks.

"Yes." I reach over and rub his thigh. "Why ruin a good thing? Let's just take it a day at a time and see how it goes. We can make it work."

"We will make it work," he affirms. "No matter what. I don't care what I have to do to keep you, I will. I love you."

"I love you too. You don't have to do anything to keep me though, just be with me, okay?"

He nods and I squeeze his thigh. It was apparently a little surprisingly high because he swerves into the oncoming traffic, narrowly missing a motorcyclist. "Jesus, don't do that shit while I'm driving," he scolds.

I almost tell him he can do both, but instead I move my hand back to my own lap.

The rest of the ride is mostly quiet. We talk about how dating is going to work and all that, and he insists that he will be taking me out, his father be damned. I figure that we won't be molesting each other in public, so no one should really be the wiser, but then again, this  _is_ Edward we're talking about.

He parks along the curb in front of my house, where there is a sign that indicates no parking for longer than fifteen minutes, which leads me to believe he'll be leaving. I lean in to kiss him goodbye but he stops me with his hand on my chest.

"Can I come in?" he asks, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, yeah, absolutely. I just thought..." I say, pointing to the sign. "Never mind. Yes, of course you can come in."

His eyebrows stay raised. "Can I stay a while?"

"Yes," I laugh. "As long as you'd like to."

"Great. Can you move your car so I can pull up by the house, please? I don't trust these fuckers on the street." I roll my eyes and grab his shirt, pulling his mouth to mine. "Is that a yes?" he mumbles into my mouth.

"Mhmm," I answer, not bothering to break the kiss.

"Go move your car," he says, pushing me away and glancing nervously over his shoulder.

"I don't know how you slept last night," I mutter in disbelief as I get out.

"I don't either," I hear him say before I shut the door.

After I move my car and he pulls his in along side of it, he literally chases me into the house, smacking me on the ass when I don't move fast enough.

"Come on, come on," he urges, still smacking my ass while I fumble with my keys.

He reaches around me and jams the key into the knob, twisting the key all the way around until the door opens. His parted lips surprise me as they caress across my neck as he presses me through the doorway with his body. The keys hit the table with a rattle and the door slams with thud.

All too soon, his lips aren't on my neck anymore, but he's spinning me around to face him and he backs me up against the door.

"I can't wait another second," he murmurs.

I'm too shocked to even meet him halfway when he kisses me. I moan into his mouth, barely able to keep up, but I think—I hope—I know where this is leading. His hands are pulling my pants open and he's frantically kicking his shoes off.

Suddenly his mouth is gone again. "Is this okay?" he asks.

I don't bother answering, I just pull his mouth back to mine and try to toe my own shoes off. It's no use, really. My shoes are on too tight, and we can do this with our shoes on anyway.

I hiss when he grabs my ass and pulls me against him hard. My thighs quiver, it feels so good. He moans and shoves his hand up my shirt, thumbing my nipple. I gasp and break the kiss, having to moan and catch a breath, his lips move to my neck. He's moving hurriedly, thrusting forward and pushing my back to the door, and I push back into him, creating a delicious friction.

This isn't going to be a slow, intimate, loving, passionate reunion. We're hard and we're horny and we just fucking  _want_. There's plenty time for nice and slow later, right now we both just need to cum.

–

Edward spends the entire weekend at my house, only leaving Sunday night because we both know if he doesn't we're going to stay up too late either talking or rubbing our cocks all over each other—which is honestly how we spent most of the weekend.

I did show him my painting room, and he was really great about the whole obsession painting I had made. He totally laughed at me for loving his pubes and his mole though. He promised to play the piano for me the next time I came over, because I still haven't heard him. We are finally getting passed those last emotional barriers.

That first Monday back in the real world was fucking awful. He came over looking defeated and tired and angry. I didn't push him to talk and he barely said two words. We just laid on the couch together and watched a movie. I played with his hair almost the entire time and he fell asleep with his head in my lap. I felt terrible that I had to wake him up. He kissed me and tried to apologize, but I wouldn't hear it.

The next day was definitely better and he talked a little bit about his dad and professors bitching him out. He didn't say a whole lot, mostly just about how his work load would be increasing substantially which would complicate things, but we would do what we had to. I have to keep it in mind that he won't be in school forever and that his future is very important. It's also at the forefront of my brain that if he fucks up again, it's his asshole father that he has to answer to again, and that frightens me.

The week continues on much the same, only the talking starts to lead to sex. There's a lot of dry humping—so far we've done it against the front door; against the washing machine when I tried to teach him how to use it; in the kitchen, because he insisted that I looked ridiculously sexy while I cooked; on the couch; on the floor in both the living room and my painting room; against the bathroom counter; in my bed; in my closet; and in the chair next to my bed.

I swear, my cock isn't going to know what to do when it feels something that isn't the fabric of my underwear rubbing on it.

I gave him Alejandro, which he has told me repeatedly he will never return.

We're like fucking high schoolers all over again. It's kind of fun being attacked and humped on a regular basis. Other than my dick is getting a little sore.

He can't really spend the nights with me and because of his father, neither of us are really in a hurry to spend as much time at his house as we used to. I'm finally catching up on drawing again and sending work out for consignment. I haven't had a good paycheck in a while and it's starting to show. I think Edward noticed that I needed food because Jessica showed up at my door with a car load of groceries the other morning.

He wouldn't let me pay him back, which turned into a small fight, which lead to some mildly aggressive grinding. I'm not going to lie, it was fucking hot, and I forgot all about the stupid fight when all was said and done. We were really getting good at this grinding thing. We've figured out just how to set our legs to get the perfect angle and what speed works best for both of us. By now I also knew that he loved it when I pulled his hair and dug my nails into his back, just like he knew exactly where  _that_ spot on my neck was and how much I loved it when he played with my nipples.

We spend another whole weekend together, though we actually leave the house this time. He takes me out for supper and we see a movie—the movie sucked, by the way, and we mostly just made out. We go to Rogue's too and hide in a corner when Emmett walks in with Jake. I think they must be dating because Emmett is being pretty touchy-feely and why else would they be out together? I tell Edward and he rolls his eyes, I'm not sure why. I think they look pretty cute together, totally ordinary, but cute. If I didn't know any better, I would assume they were just two dudes out together, they looks like 'bros' or something—slightly touchy-feely bros. It's hilarious and adorable and I so want to go congratulate them, but Edward wants to go home.

For some reason, he insists we dry hump in the backseat of his car. It's totally awkward and uncomfortable, but he claims it's a right of passage so we do it and end up with sticky pants. I need to remember to start carrying condoms with me. Oh, speaking of condoms, Edward made Jessica buy a box of those when she was grocery shopping. She left them on my counter next to my bananas. I guess she thinks she's funny. That's really mild payback though, considering. Does he think I didn't have any, or was that some kind of hint?

It's currently Tuesday morning and Edward is sleeping in my bed because he didn't want to go home last night. I like it when he sleeps with me, he's an awesome big spoon and I get the best sleep when I'm all curled up with him. It kind of sucks though too because I like humping him in the morning and it messes with my flow when I realize that I can't do that unless I want to make him late for work.

So it's like six o'clock in the morning and I'm in the shower to alleviate my current south-of-the-border tension. I'd rather wake up way too early to rub one out in the shower then not have him here at all, or make him late.

I think that I'm hornier now than I was as a teenager. It's outrageous the number of times I feel the need to masturbate these days. I thought I was a horny bastard before, since meeting Edward my sex drive has skyrocketed. He's just so fucking hot.

I stay quiet so not to disturb Edward's sleep, but I think he is going to be getting up soon, so I speed up. I need to finish up in here, then I'll make him French toast, he loves that. I lean back against the wall while the water pours onto absolutely nothing at all. I know masturbating in the shower is bad for the environment, but shit, it's so much more convenient.

That sounds like a really bad PSA: Go green, conserve water, don't jerk off in the shower.

Why am I even thinking about this now? Doesn't really matter, it's too late to stop anyway. Feels too fucking good to stop. Oh, God, stop fucking thinking and start feeling.

Just as I start to round the edge, I hear the bathroom door creak open. I freeze and open my eyes. Through the frosted glass door, I can just make Edward out, which means he can probably just barely see me as well, but if I keep jacking, it would be kind of obvious. He probably just has to use the bathroom.

But then the shower door slides open. "Jesus Christ, what are you doing?" I gasp.

Edward eyes me sleepily and steps into the shower. "Taking a shower. What are you doing?" He smirks at me. My right hand and cock are soapy, I'm pretty sure he knows exactly what I was doing—I've been caught soapy-handed. "Don't stop on my account," he mutters, kind of clearing up any confusion there was about whether he knew if I was jacking off or not.

Then it clicks. He's fucking naked. In the shower. With me.

My eyes snap down and I moan. Fuck me, his dick is pretty—I haven't seen it at all up until now, I couldn't bring myself to look at his porno pics, that would have ruined the surprise. Pretty doesn't feel like the right word. It's... It's... I'm too horny to think; pretty is just going to have to do for now. And fuck, it looks really good, thick, long, and hard, and just fuck.

He turns around, then it's ass appreciation time. I moan again. I swear, I'm going to cum hands-fucking-free. I've never been so jealous of soap in my life, but watching it bubble down his back, over his perfect little ass, I'm beside myself. Can I be Edward's soap in my next life, please?

Oh God, there's his cock again. His pretty, cut, hard, slightly upwards-curved cock. All wet. His perfect fucking pubes and his sexy as fuck balls, I want to fondle them. I don't think I've ever wanted to frot with someone so badly in my life.

"You okay, baby?" Edward asks. I nod and try to peel my eyes away from his cock, but it's an impossibility. I'm charmed and bewitched by the one-eyed snake. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I answer throatily.

"Come on, then," he says, gripping my arm gently. "You look cold." I resist him when he tries to pull me closer, choosing instead to stay where I am. "What's wrong?" he asks.

"Nothing," I try to say, but it gets caught in my throat and I have to repeat myself.

His hand on my arm moves higher and he squeezes my bicep. "Baby, are you sure you've done this before?" he asks, sounding amused.

"Are you sure you haven't?" I ask back.

He chuckles, rubbing my arm. "Yes, I am sure. Why do you look so afraid?"

I finally move my eyes up to his and he is smiling, both reassuringly and in an amused way. I sigh and take a small step towards him. In return, he takes a small step towards me and reaches his other hand out to rub my arm. "I'm..." I start, once again having to clear my throat to be able to speak loudly enough for him to hear. "I'm afraid of pushing you too far, too fast. I'm afraid that if I try to do anything right now, I'm going to fuck up what we have. I'm afraid of scaring you and you leaving me."

He reaches his hand out and lightly caresses my cheekbone, then my lower lip. "I'm afraid of the exact opposite," he admits. "I'm scared that I'm not moving fast enough, that you're getting bored. I'm terrified that you want more and aren't asking for it because you think I don't want to give it to you. I'm terrified you'll leave me."

I shake my head and take another small step toward him, which he again mirrors. "Baby, how many times do I have to tell you?"

"I know," he says. "I know that you're not with me for the sex and I know that you love me."

"I do. I love you so fucking much, Edward, and I'm not going to leave you, I promise."

"I'm not leaving either, and I love you too, Jasper. I  _want_  to be with you. I want to do this for you," he says, sliding his hand from my face down my chest. I stop him when he reaches my stomach.

"You don't have to. I don't want you to do anything because you're afraid or because you think it's the only way to keep me around. I'm with you no matter what, you don't have to do something you'll regret. You don't have to if you don't want to, if you're not ready."

His hand easily slides out from under mine and my toes curl the second he wraps his fingers around my shaft. "Oh, I want to, baby. I'm definitely ready."

"Okay," I sigh, all of the fight and reason leaving me rather suddenly.

He chuckles breathily and slowly slides his hand completely along my length. "Done cock-blocking?"

"Mm, for now."

He tightens his grip and I push into his hand, which makes him smirk. "Better be more than just for now."

"I'll try not to cock-block either you or myself anymore."

"I guess that'll have to do," he says.

His hand moves a bit more quickly and he twists his palm right over the head, knowingly gathering the moisture there. It feels fucking great and I grunt.

"Are you cold?" he asks. I shake my head and he takes a step towards me. "Okay, I just wondered since you're still all the fucking way back here out of the water. You don't have to be afraid to touch me, I'm tested, disease free."

"Oh, shit," I say snapping my eyes open. "I never even fucking told you I'm clean too," I realize. "I have the paperwork if—"

He shoves his fucking finger right in my mouth, shutting me up. What the fuck? His thumb is in my mouth! "I trust you."

He doesn't bother to remove his finger from my mouth, so I figure he must have it there for a reason. I swirl my tongue around his thumb, and wrap my lips around it, sucking lightly. He watches, eyes heavy and then leans in, flicking his tongue over my lips. Then both his thumb and his tongue are in my mouth and it's oddly one of the hottest things ever. He's pinning my tongue down with his thumb and probing my mouth with his tongue.

His hand is expertly jerking me and I'm so close to getting off. I want to warn him, but his finger and his mouth are making that impossible. I am so close, though, and he catches on. He slides his finger from my mouth, down over my nipple, which he takes a moment to tweak, and down to my cock. He runs his fingers through my pubic hair a few times then moves the hand to my balls, which he grips lightly and tugs.

My hips jerk hard and he in turn tightens his hold on both my cock and balls. He pulls in quick, short successions and my toes curl under. It feels so fucking good.

My hands go to his hair and I bury my fingers deep into the wet mess, pulling his mouth harder to mine. I moan into his mouth and he steps forward, letting me feel his hard cock pressed up against me.

I can't hold back anymore. The flood gates burst, so to speak, and the orgasm rips through me. I press forward into him, feeling myself cumming all over his stomach and he releases my balls, reaching around me to squeeze my ass.

I'm desperately hoping his fingers slip, accidentally or otherwise, but I know that isn't likely. I'm not complaining. I'm so not complaining. Feels so fucking good.

I break away from his mouth with more moans and pant for breath, while he continues to squeeze my ass and jerk my cock for everything it's worth.

"Oh my fuck," I groan, dropping my head into his shoulder.

I open my eyes and see that I've practically painted his entire torso with my cum and it's so fucking hot that I manage to give him just a little bit more. He squeezes his fingers around the head of my cock, expressing another drop of cum that rolls down over his long, talented fingers.

I sigh and shudder, and Edward turns his head and starts kissing my ear. "That was..." I trail off, speechless. He lets go of my cock and starts to take a step back, but I stop him. I clutch at his waist and beg, "Just a minute."

He chuckles and nuzzles my ear. "That good?" he whispers.

"Definitely, and I also am not ready for you to start laughing yet."

He scoffs. "I am not going to laugh."

"You are covered in my cum," I start to say, but I don't bother finishing because his cock throbs noticeably against my leg and it completely distracts me.

And makes me wonder if he is really liking being covered in my cum. I start to kiss his shoulder, gradually making my way to his neck while my hands ease around to his sides. I circle his hip bones with my thumbs and he throbs again.

"Can I?" I ask, moving my hands closer to where they should be—wrapped around his perfect cock.

"Oh, you absolutely can," he says, though he catches both of my wrists in his hands. "But not right now. I'm going to be late for school," he says, leaning in to kiss me quickly.

"Now who's the fucking cock-block," I mutter.


	10. Chapter 10

After helping Edward rid his body of my cum and after helping him dry off—what can I say, I'm very attentive—he quickly gets dressed.

"I'm such a terrible boyfriend," I pout at him in the kitchen, realizing I don't even have enough time to make him breakfast.

Edward sighs and wraps his arms around me, pecking kisses all over my face. "You're not," he says. "You're the best boyfriend ever. You can take care of me later." At the mention of taking care of him, I shift my hips forward to rub against him and he groans. "Don't start that shit, Jasper. I have to go."

I frown and I know I'm unfairly pouting but I do really feel terrible. "I didn't get to make you breakfast. What a fucking way to start your morning, give your asshole boyfriend a handjob in the shower and get nothing in return. Then said asshole-y boyfriend doesn't even feed you any breakfast before you go to school."

He laughs at me, which makes me pout even harder. He shoves his fingers into my hair and kisses me, I can't even stop pouting long enough to kiss him back. "I have some time that I can kill after class before I have to go to the firm, why don't you meet me for lunch?" he asks.

"How long?" I inquire.

"About an hour," he says.

Edward grabs a handful of granola bars from the cupboard before kissing me goodbye. I may grind into him a little as a silent promise to make up for this morning. He groans and deepens our kiss, but then pulls away. He curses school and lawyers and fucking mornings, and then tells me he loves me and I wish he would just take a sick day. But I know he can't so I don't ask him to. I watch him leave, and I start to plot.

An hour isn't a whole lot of time, but I think I can do a lot with the little time we get.

–

As agreed upon, I wait from him at the little deli downtown—which is just a few short blocks from the Cullen Firm—at noon. He shows up late, a very repentant, curse-word filled apology on his lips. Something about one of his professors keeping him late.

"Eat fast," I tell him.

He gives me an odd look but shrugs. "Okay. Is that seriously all you're getting?" he asks, eying my lone turkey sandwich questioningly. I shrug back at him and he gets a little angry. "This better not be because I'm fucking paying. I'm ordering you more food," he decides.

I sigh and grab his arm to stop him as he tries to go back to the counter. "I'm just not very hungry." And I also have plans for dessert...

"You better not be fucking lying," he says, unwillingly following me to a little table in the back.

"I'm not," I insist.

Thank fucking Christ, he drops it and starts to eat his meal. He's not a shy eater, another perk for today, and he wolfs down his food in about fifteen minutes flat, which leaves me about thirty minutes to work with. It's not long, but I think it's enough.

I don't know if he's noticed because he was kind of engaged in stuffing his face, but I've had my hand on his knee under the table the entire time, rubbing and squeezing. That left me eating one-handed, which I did purposely sloppily so I had to lick my lips and suck on my fingers a lot. But like I said, it may have all been futile, because he really was eating fast. Maybe he knew I was up to something. I really hope so, I don't exactly have time to give him the precursor foreplay-foreplay.

"Done?" I ask.

He nods, gulping down his Coke. He was either fucking famished or he fucking knows what I'm planning.

"Good, where's your car parked?"

He points out the window to the lot across the street. "There was nothing open along the street, I had to park it over there."

I spot his car, and it's shoved into a corner, sideways, taking up like three parking spaces. I roll my eyes, because he's lying about there being no where to park on the street but I don't give a shit. The parking lot works better anyway.

I refrain from holding his hand as we walk out of the shop and across the street, and it hurts a little that I know it's necessary considering we are so close to the firm right now, and any one of these people could know him. He unlocks the doors and I get into the passenger seat, extremely excited and turned on for what I'm about to do.

He slides in and closes the door. "So what's up, is there something you want to talk about?" he asks.

I smile and lean over the center console, really fucking happy that it isn't super high-profiled or I'd be fucked. He hums as I start to kiss him and I begin my search for the tricky little buttons on the side of his seat. He groans when the seat starts to move, reclining and sliding back away from the steering wheel.

"I fucking knew you were planning something," he says when I start to kiss his neck.

I chuckle and shove his shirt up out of my way. As I start to kiss down his chest, he grabs the hem, ripping it over his head. He catches on quick, it's one of the many reasons why I love him so much. I flick his nipples with my tongue and grip the top of his pants, using my thumb to shove the button through the hole. He moans and arches his hips up for me to work his pants down his legs, which I do, along with his underwear.

His cock jumps free of his pants, already hard and glistening at the top. Someone's excited—besides myself. I kiss down over his chest and lick each and every one of his abs before I stick my tongue in his bellybutton. I laugh when his cock thwacks me on the cheek, at least it wasn't in the eye. Nothing sucks worse than a cock or cum to the eye.

I lick and kiss my way around his cock, enjoying the way he's practically whimpering with need. I don't have a whole hell of a lot of time, but I find it kind of hilarious how he is looking at me. I'm just waiting for him to say, "Just fucking suck me already, you little teasing whore," but he doesn't and as badly as I want to, I don't have time to wait to hear it. I'm almost positive that's what he's thinking though.

I flatten my tongue and lick his balls and he about jumps off the fucking seat. "Holy fuck, Jasper."

I smirk and lick them again, working my tongue over the sensitive area where his scrotum meets the base of his cock. He groans and slides his hand into my hair, pushing my head down harder against his balls. I can take a hint. I suck one in my mouth and he grunts while his hips buck again.

As I switch to give his other testicle attention, I look up to see what he's doing. His head is tossed back, his jaw slack, and his cock has a river of precum running down it. That's just too fucking delicious looking to resist anymore.

I pull my mouth away from his balls and his head whips forward. He meets my eyes as I cup his balls in one hand and place my fingers of my other hand at the base of his cock to hold him still for me. I stick my tongue out, flattening it against the bottom of his cock to follow the trail of clear fluid up to his tip.

He groans, long and low, as he watches me do this. When I reach the tip, I wrap my lips around it, sucking away the mildly sweet, mostly bitter, a little bit salty, and all Edward-tasting precum that has gathered there. I'm not going to lie, cock isn't the best tasting thing in the world, but I fucking love sucking it, taste be damned—you get used to it.

I swirl my tongue around his head and flick the tip of my tongue over the thin, sensitive fold of his frenulum. His hips arch up, so I do it again, then again.

His face gets very serious as he looks down at me. "Fucking stop that or I'm going to cum in like two seconds," he groans.

I smile and turn my head—breaking our eye contact—to take more of him into my mouth. As I lower my mouth around him, my lips stretch and he hits my throat and I realize how fucking big he really is. It's been a while since I've given head so it takes me quite a few tries to finally get my throat to relax enough for him to slide into it.

As the head of his cock slides into my throat, he hisses and the muscles in his thighs bunch. His hand slowly works into my hair and I don't think anything of it. That is until he shoves my head down and I'm unexpectedly eating a faceful of pubic hair. I pull off of his cock with a gasp and he at least has the decency to look extremely guilty.

"I'm sorry, I swear I didn't fucking mean to do that, it just felt really good and I got a little carried away," he defends.

" _Don't_  do it again," I warn.

He bites his lip and nods. He seriously looks really fucking ashamed of himself, as he should. I think perhaps it's my tendency to be dominating, but nothing pisses me off more than when someone shoves my mouth on their cock—unless it's called for, like in a face-fucking situation, which this obviously is not. Learn some fucking patience or I'm going to fucking shove my dick down your throat and see how you fucking like it.

If he does it again, knowing I don't like it, I'm going to fucking bite him. I  _know_  that shit doesn't feel good. He's just fucking lucky I have almost no gag reflex to speak of.

I lick my lips and swallow, preparing to go in for round two of Edward's cock meeting my tonsils. His thighs tense again, and this time when his hand lands on me, it's my shirt that he's wrapping his hand into.

Much better, baby. Good boy.

I squeeze his balls in gratitude and he grunts. God, I fucking love it when he grunts. It's all man-meets-caveman and animalistic-like. His hips arch up and he fucks my mouth a little bit, but that I can handle, since he's not shoving me down his cock. Christ, I'm going to be pissed about that for a while.

With a great deal of suction, I bring myself back up his cock and he moans. I make it back down with much more ease this time and swallow around him. His hips buck up and I realize that I'm going to have to let him fuck my face at some point. He obviously isn't a 'lie there and take it' type, which is what I tend to be when getting head—I'm pretty sure that's from all the years of getting it from straight boys though, with them it's either don't move or risk scaring them.

"Fuck," he moans, and his hand is back in my hair again. I guess that's where he wants it, I'm not going to fucking complain when his whole cock is already in my throat. I let him guide me a little bit, and before long, he's ripping on my roots. I follow helplessly as he aims me at the top of his cock, where I go back to massaging the head of his cock with my tongue. I slide my fingers up around his cock and jerk him while rubbing his balls.

"Holy Jesus fucking Christ," he gasps. "Jasper, fuck, I'm gonna, fuck." I try not to laugh at his complete lack of articulation, but I know what he's trying to tell me, so I kick it up into high gear.

I manage to twist myself just enough that I can really get my tongue working directly over his frenulum and I start to rotate my palm as I jack him off. His scrotum tightens in my hand and I suck him hard, waiting for it. I'm so ready for a mouthful of Edward. I'm also dying to slip my fingers just a little bit lower, but I'm not sure I want to push him that much when I just finally got his cock in my mouth.

"Fuck, Jasper, move," he groans, and I roll my eyes.

Where the fuck am I supposed to move to? I'm not stupid enough to let him get cum on his clothing or, God forbid, the car. Does he seriously expect me not to swallow? I want his fucking cum in my mouth, what's the big damn deal? Just fucking cum already.

He sandwiches my head between his hands and I'm just waiting for him to either shove me away or all the way back down again, but he does neither. He holds my head completely still and moans deeply. I nearly choke on the first blast as it's a lot more than I am expecting and it literally fucking shoots into my throat. The rest I am more prepared for, but fuck me, he has a lot of cum in him. I swallow it all like a champ and I'm pretty fucking proud, I think I deserve a fucking medal. It should read something like 'Jasper Whitlock, Best Fatherfucking Cock Sucker Around'. Yeah, I'd wear that.

When he finally seems to be finished cumming, I pull away and grab the bottle of water that is sitting in the cup holder. It's stale and warm, but it's better than gargling on cum for the next half hour. I end up just drinking everything in the bottle, because seriously, cock does leave a bit of a foul aftertaste.

"You didn't have to do that," Edward says in this deep, lazy voice that totally screams post-coital. It's pretty sexy.

"And you didn't have to give me a handjob this morning," I counter.

He chuckles. "Fair enough." There is an awkward pause as he kind of tucks himself away and I try not to laugh, because I'm apparently in a giggly mood now. "Can I ask you a question?" he asks quietly.

I look over at him, only to find that he's blushing rather rigorously. I'm definitely intrigued. "Of course."

He chews on his bottom lip a little then shyly peeks up at me through his eyelashes. Fuck me, if I wasn't already hard as a rock, I would have just sprung an instant boner. How the fuck does he do that?

"What does it taste like?" he whispers.

I have to work hard to keep a serious face. I commend him for asking, I don't want to laugh at him for asking such a significant question, but fuck, like I said, giggly. It takes me a few moments to work past the initial desire to snicker.

"Are you wondering what yours tastes like or just in general, because I can tell you right now that everyone's tastes different."

"In general, I guess," he mumbles, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Well, it's honestly not the best tasting thing ever, but it's not the worst either. It's kind of salty and a little bitter and it's warm with a rather unpleasant texture, so yeah, overall it's kind of... difficult for some to swallow. It's loaded with proteins and vitamins, so there's that..."

"So, was mine... okay?" he inquires.

I smirk a little, I just can't help it, he's  _so_  fucking cute. "It was fine. The consistency was good, not too watery and not too thick—thank God, because I don't handle the thick stuff well. You cum a lot, so I'm going to have to get used to that." He blushes darkly, so I rush to continue. "Not that that's a bad thing, it's kind of hot, really. As for taste, it was average, I guess. More on the salty and bitter side than sweet, but it was definitely not bad. Mine will probably be more sweet," I point out, just for the fuck of it, "because I tend to eat a lot of fruit for that exact reason. It's not a myth, fruit really does make cum taste sweeter."

"Seriously?" he asks. I nod. "I guess I should probably start eating more fruit then, not that you have to swallow. I mean, I don't expect you to, you don't have to, you can just spit it out, I don't care."

"I never really saw the point of letting a guy cum in your mouth only to spit it out. It makes no sense to me, you still get all the taste."

"You don't have to let me cum in your mouth at all," he hastily comes out with, seriously looking humiliated. "Just aim elsewhere, or whatever."

I chuckle and lean over to ruffle his hair. "Calm down, I'll swallow for you anytime."

"You don't have to," he says, staring at his lap.

"I know I don't have to. You're fucking thinking about that shit Emmett said, aren't you?"

"No," he says, but his cheeks get all red and it's a dead giveaway.

"Liar," I call him out. "Edward, do I really have to tell you not to believe everything Emmett says? He and I are cut from different cloths, just because we are both gay men doesn't make us the same. If he doesn't swallow because his boy won't doesn't mean I'm the same way. I don't care if you don't want to swallow, I don't even care if you don't want to give me head at all, I like sucking cock, so as long as you let me, I'm going to keep sucking yours. Doesn't mean I'm going to swallow all the damn time though, baby, but in situations like this when it's impossible to 'aim elsewhere', I can take it. My point is that you don't have to suck my cock or swallow," I say with a huff, realizing that I'm rambling.

"I want to try again," he mutters.

"Okay, well, we don't exactly have time right now, otherwise I'm totally ready for you to go for it. Anytime though, just say the word and I can be ready to let you try all you want almost immediately."

His lips curl up and I get the desired reaction I was looking for. "I have a really bad gag reflex," he warns, losing the previous small smile.

I shrug. "So don't shove it down your throat. Deep-throating is overrated anyway."

"Are you going to laugh at me if I suck at it? I mean, I obviously wasn't good the first time around," he mumbles.

I lean across the console and I run my fingers through his hair. "The first time doesn't even count, and you weren't bad, it was just hugely unexpected. And, baby, I definitely will not laugh if you  _suck_ at  _it_."

He huffs and tries not to laugh as he smacks me in the chest. "Seriously, what if I suck?"

"You have so much to learn,  _sucking_ is the point," I joke, continuing to massage his head.

"Shut up," he laughs, "you know what I fucking mean."

"There is no bad head, unless you bite me, in which case I'll have to kick your ass."

"Noted. Your breath smells funny," he points out.

I roll my eyes. "That would be because I ate a turkey and provolone sandwich previous to swallowing your cum. Either kiss me despite that or stop teasing me with that fucking pouty lip and go to work."

He leans in hesitantly and I stop him with my hand on his chest. "You don't have to, you should probably be going anyway," I say eying the clock. He has like five minutes to get to work, and even if the roads have very minimal traffic, he'll be screwed if he hits all the red lights.

"I can kiss you," he says determinedly, I'm pretty sure he's talking himself into it.

He continues to move in rather slowly, and his lips are all tight. It's like our first kiss all over again. He eventually slides his tongue into my mouth though, then he's okay, once he realizes that the cum isn't flesh eating bacteria or whatever the fuck he's afraid of. Some guys are such babies, it fucking came out of his body, it's not like it's from some foreign, disease-carrying third party.

"I have to get to work," he whispers, kissing me lightly.

"I know. I love you," I whisper back, opening my eyes to meet his.

"I love you too. Meet me at my place around six?"

"Okay," I sigh.

"On second thought," he says, pulling away. I watch with interest as he unhooks several keys from his keychain. "Here, take these. You can duplicate them for yourself if you want. This is the front door, side door, side gate, back door." He points out each key, but they all look fucking identical to me, I'm never going to remember which is which.

That's hardly the point though. "You're giving me a key?" I ask.

"Yeah, and the combination for the alarm is still—"

I cut him off by attacking his mouth. He mumbles something that I don't understand against my lips, but I'm too distracted to even care what it was. He's fucking giving me a key. That's huge!

"I fucking love you so much," I sigh.

"I know, me too, but I really gotta go. Keep all the doors locked at all times. If you're going to be in the pool, have your phone so I can call you to let you know when I'm there so you can let me in, or have the side gate unlocked for me."

I agree and kiss him one more time before getting out. His car starts and he backs out. As I'm crossing the street, I hear him wolf-whistle and I look back at him to roll my eyes. I see him wink at me and I turn around and shake my ass at him. He catcalls and I shake my head and laugh, walking across the street to my car. His tires squeal as he peels out of the parking lot and I watch as he drives like a fucking maniac, just making every yellow light before it goes to red.

Lucky bastard.

–

I do as he asked me, stopping at a hardware store to get duplicates of both of our keys—so I can give him mine in return—before heading to his place. I wander the house for a while, but it's sunny outside and pretty warm, so I decide to swim. I consider going up to Edward's room to find a pair of swimming trunks, but opt not to. I'd rather swim nude.

I'm out there for hours, just floating around bare-assed naked, praying that my white ass doesn't get burned too badly. I have my iPod and my phone and it's just fucking nice to relax in the pool. Around six, I open the side gate for Edward and wait for him to get home.

I'm horny as hell, though I may have already spanked it once in the pool—I really fucking hope Edward doesn't find out about that. I want him like fucking crazy, I'd really love it if he gave me another handjob.

He shows up a little after six, coming through the side gate. I was just going to switch sides, so I was down in the water anyway. I swim over to the side and he meets me there, kneeling down to kiss me. I'm so tempted to grab him by the shirt and pull him in, but I know that's just asking for a fucking fight. Edward isn't the type to take a joke very well, especially when it involves his cell phone and wallet.

"Are you naked in there?" he asks, trying to look below the surface.

I reach for his pants and flick the button open. "Why don't you come in and find out for yourself?" I dare.

He smirks and stands up, discarding his shirt and kicking his pants and shoes off. Without a trace of hesitation, he slides his underwear off too, then gracefully jumps into the pool, landing right beside me.

"You're so fucking sexy," I moan. It's not even fair, my junk would have bounced around in the most unattractive manner if I would have just done what he did, but his just floated through the air.

"You're the fucking sexy one," he says back deeply, wrapping his arms around my neck.

 _Jesus, just fuck me already_. I'm at least smart enough not to voice that out loud, though I was seriously considering it. I wonder what he'd say. I don't really want to find out, I really doubt he'd say 'yes please' and bend me over a chaise or anything, though that would be really fucking hot. He'd probably just clam up and get all awkward—he  _is_ really fucking cute when he's being awkward, but now isn't the time for that.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks.

 _You bending me over and taking my ass like I've never been taken before._ "How unfair it is that you're so goddamn attractive."

He snorts and rolls his eyes at me. "You're one to talk Mr. Tall, Blonde, and Good-looking."

"I didn't say I wasn't good-looking," I counter, "but you are fucking unbelievable. You have the most amazing body ever."

"It's not that great," he mutters.

"Oh, what the fuck ever. I hate huge, beefy guys like Emmett, it's too much, but you are fucking ripped and lean, and fuckhot."

"Whatever," he grumbles. "You think I'm fuckhot, I think you're fuckhot, that's about all the clarification we need. Why are we even fucking talking right now?"

He doesn't let me respond, he leans in and kisses me. I don't know why we were talking, talking is verging on being ridiculous when you are naked in a pool with your fuckhot boyfriend.

I really fucking wish he would bend me over something... It's been so fucking long. A man needs his prostate poked every now and then.

I lose my train of thought when I feel him step in close to me, hard cock meeting hard cock. I move in closer to him, pressing our cocks between our bodies, but then wince, wondering why the fuck it hurts. He shifts his hips and I hiss into his mouth, but he doesn't notice that it's a bad thing. He grinds into me harder and I break away from his mouth with a pained whimper. It fucking hurts. It shouldn't hurt. Why the fuck does my dick hurt?

"Shit," I rasp, pushing away from him.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he calls after me as I swim over to the steps.

I walk out and look down at my dick then nearly start crying because my dick is obviously fucking sunburned.

"Your ass is all pink," Edward points out.

Everything that was previously not tanned is pink, penis included. I fucking have sunburn on my penis. How could I be so fucking stupid? I should have protected the sacred fuck stick, I should have slathered him in sunscreen. What the fuck was I thinking?

I'm nearly in tears by the time I turn back around to face Edward, and to my horror, his lips purse and his nose crinkles when he sees my sunburned cock. He's laughing at it. Bastard!

I mean, I understand why, it's kind of stripy from being soft while the sun roasted it and now it's hard, and I have a zebra dick.

I'm never going to get laid.

Ever.

"Baby, I'm so sorry," Edward coos. "That must be really painful. Let's go find you some aloe vera."

Oh, so now he realizes it's not funny. Well paint my dick red and white and call it a fucking candy cane. Shit, I can't even laugh at my own fucking sunburned dick jokes, I'm never going to live this one down.

Edward lifts himself up out of the pool using the edge and quickly dries off his lower body with the shirt he'd been wearing. He then brings his underwear over to me, drops to his knees, and begins to carefully dry me off, mindful of the tender skin.

Once he's satisfied I'm dry enough, he leans in and kisses the skin on my stomach just above my sunburn. It's just too fucking much. As if it isn't bad enough he was already kneeling in front of me while both of us are naked, his mouth being that close to my cock... Just fucking kill me. My cock throbs, slapping into my stomach.

I whimper and Edward apologizes, getting up off of his knees. He leads me into the house by my hand and takes me straight up to his room. Once in his bathroom, he releases me to ransack his cupboards. He comes out with a huge bottle of green goo and I swear, green goo has never looked so good before—maybe that's just because a naked Edward is holding it, or because I know it'll cool my sunburned dick.

I reach for the bottle but Edward holds it behind his back and gets down on his knees in front of me again. Seriously, kill me. Don't even bother fucking me first, just put me out of my goddamn misery.

"Edward," I warn, seriously unsure that him applying aloe vera to my sunburned, painful boy parts while kneeling in front of me is a good idea.

"I'll be careful," he promises, but then he looks up at me through his motherfucking eyelashes and I'm fucked. Completely fucked. Death by possibly extremely painful handjob, next left.

Oh, holy mother of fuck, that is cold.

I kind of squeak a little and Edward looks up at me with this bothered expression, and he doesn't even have to say it anymore, I  _know_  what the look means.

 _Stop being such a girl._

I glare back at him, ready to snap about painful, roasted penises, but then his slightly cool, aloe vera gel-covered hand is wrapped around my painful, roasted penis, and I suddenly don't care. It doesn't really feel too bad, considering his hand is like super lubed up with the gel. It feels pretty good actually, maybe even really good because my cock is extra sensitive now.

Or maybe my brain is overriding the pain because he's knelt in front of me, who knows.

Either way, I'm enjoying it. He stops and grasps my hips lightly, urging me to turn around. Oh, my god.

I do as he wants and he starts to rub my sunburned ass cheeks. It's insanely arousing, I'm sorely tempted to start jacking off while he rubs my ass, but I think that may be a little awkward for him.

He turns me back around then stands up, and I wonder why he's standing up. I liked him knelt there in front of me, it was very submissive and a great view.

"There," he says.

"What?" I ask incredulously.

He had been smiling down at his handy work, and I'm not sure what he looked so proud for, but at my outburst he raises his eyes to mine.

"Oh, you thought I was going to..." he trails off.

I don't know what I thought he was going to do, but it sure as hell didn't involve leaving me high and dry—or lubed up and horny to be more to the point.

"You rubbed my ass! What effect did you think that was going to have on me? I would have preferred just putting the damn shit on myself if I would have known I wasn't going to get off," I rant. I'm disappointed, what can I say? I thought I was going to get another handjob, damn it.

My cock is agonizingly hard, and it's practically begging for attention with a generous amount of precum beaded at the tip. It looks rather attractive if you ask me, all shiny-wet from the aloe gel—I mean, if you can ignore the streaks of sunburn.

Again, I'm never going to fucking get laid.

"I'm sorry, baby, I guess I wasn't thinking. I should have just let you do it," he mutters, looking rather defeated.

Fuck. His lip is pouting out. "It's okay," I sigh, grabbing his hand. "I should stop being such a horny bastard. My cock is all sunburned and you're just trying to take care of me, and all I can think about is getting a fucking handjob. That's pretty sad on my part."

"I promise I didn't mean to lead you on. I'm not trying to be a tease."

"I know, it's not your fault. Well, I mean, it is  _your_ fault, but you can't really help it that you're insanely sexy or that I love seeing you on your knees."

His face turns a furious pink and he bites his lip, and oh my God, that doesn't help my erection.

"See, you blush and I'm about  _this close_ to busting a nut, like right here, right now." He laughs a little, getting even pinker in the face.  _So_ fucking cute. "It's not your fault that I'm easy."

"You're not easy," he states.

I snort, because frankly, that's just fucking hilarious. "Oh, sweetie, don't be silly, I'm so easy."

He looks sort of angry, and thankfully just before he can say whatever he's about to, my phone rings. I don't know what he's angry about. Maybe he doesn't like me talking badly about myself, or maybe he thinks that because I'm calling myself easy that I'm easy enough to cheat? I don't fucking know, but I'm assuming he's not going to let his little fit go until he gets it off of his chest. To stall him, I answer my phone, not bothering to meet his eyes when he says my name.

"Hello?"

"Holy shit, has hell frosted over?" Emmett bellows into my ear.

Ah, damn it. Now I actually have to confront the fact that I'm an asshole. He's called a few times, and like the shitty friend that I am, I've ignored his calls. I love him, I really do, but he's just so fucking annoying. He's good in small doses, which means anything more than seeing him once a month and I'm just going to be a prick.

"I don't know, I've never been."

He laughs. He always laughs. I could tell him that I thought he was the most annoying idiot ever and he would laugh. He takes nothing seriously. That's probably why I love-hate him so much. I start to walk away from Edward, who's now glaring quite harshly, and I hiss because my sunburn kind of stings a little bit still.

"What's up?" Emmett asks.

"Nothing," I grumble, taking slow, calculated steps.

"You sure, you kind of sound grumpy. And are you shuffling? I swear I can hear you shuffling. Did Eddie give you the hot meat injection extra hard last night or what?"

"Yeah right," I mutter, instantly regretting it.

"Still not getting boned, Jazz? That sucks. Tell Edward I said to loosen up." He snickers at his own little innuendo.

"Shut up, please. I'm not in the mood."

"That's what he said," he giggles.

"God, you're so annoying. And you wonder why I don't answer my phone."

"Oh, is that the reason?"

"No, I've been busy," I lie.

Emmett snorts really obnoxiously in to the phone, it's a terrible sound. "Yeah, Jazz. The only time you're too busy to talk is when you're getting ass, and you're not getting any."

"Would you stop rubbing it in? I fucking know, okay. Stop being an asshole."

"Extra moody today. What's your problem, girlfriend?"

"I don't have a problem."

"Yes, you do, you're using your whiny voice which means something is wrong and don't say it's me because then you'd be using your irritated voice. There's a difference."

"How the fuck do you know my 'voices'?" I wonder.

"I spent a long time worshiping you, my friend, now tell me what's wrong."

"I have sunburn," I whine.

"God, you're such a fucking baby. Put some fucking aloe vera on it and suck it up, Jazzy-girl."

"Stop calling me a girl! It's on my fucking dick, you bastard. It hurts!"

He bursts out laughing and I'm nearly in tears again. I realize I am being a girl now, but I don't care. It really does hurt, especially now that my dick is calming down from it's previous super stiffness.

"You have sunburn on your dick?" he yells through his laughter.

"Yes, I know I'm a fucking idiot," I say. I feel the stupid tears in my eyes and I don't know why I'm on the fucking verge of crying, but I am. It's probably a mixture of feeling humiliated, pissed off, in pain, and disappointed that I'm never going to get any ass.

"Are you going to cry?" Emmett asks soberly.

"No."

"Yes, you are. Shit, don't cry."

"I'm not going to," I lie.

I don't hear Edward approach me from behind and his lips touching the back of my neck make me jump. "Shh," he whispers, rubbing his hand from my sternum to my bellybutton as he kisses along my neck and shoulders.

I wonder how they both fucking know, am I that goddamn transparent? One of them knows I'm going to cry over the phone—and all of my voices, apparently—and the other can tell when he's standing behind me. My shoulders hunch up really bad when I'm upset though, so that's probably how Edward could tell. But fuck, I hate this. I hate being so emotional. It makes me feel like a girl, which I am not. Damn it.

"What is that? Is Edward kissing you? Aw, that's so cute, and hot. Tell him if he really wants to make you feel better, he should just fuck you already. I think you should explain to him how sometimes you  _need_ to feel full and stretched. He needs to get over his little fear of ass or whatever he has going on."

I know Edward can hear every word Emmett is saying, because Emmett is loud and the phone is right there, and Edward's mouth isn't moving across my skin anymore.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you that my sex life is none of your business," I mumble. I desperately need to save face right now. I never should have let it slip that I wasn't getting any. "Why did you call anyway?"

"I just wanted to know if you two had plans tonight. I want to get together, double-date, you know, do couple stuff."

"We're not having a foursome," I state firmly.

"Jesus, you perv, that thought never even crossed my mind." Before I can ever call him out on that, he starts laughing. "Okay, that's a total lie. The four of us together would be fucking dynamic. You two are a couple of ass-wasting prudes. I already knew that though, so I just mean like dinner and shit. You know,  _normal_ couple stuff."

"No," Edward says.

"Fuck him," Emmett snaps, then starts laughing again. "Well, I guess that's what you're trying to do and he won't let you. What I mean is, do you always let him talk to you that way? Do you just let him run all over you? Make all your decisions? That's pretty fucking shitty."

"We have plans tonight. I wanted you to come over here for a reason," Edward says to me quietly, pleadingly.

I reach back and try to reassure him by fingering his hair. "We can't tonight, Em. Some other time," I say, ignoring his rant.

"Tell that bastard that no one likes a fucking jealous prick, tell him—"

"He can hear you," I cut Emmett off.

"Oh, good. Edward, you're being really fucking  _intolerant_."

Edward tenses behind me. I don't really get why he's letting Emmett get to him—not that I'm one to talk or anything—but I jump to his defense. "No, we have fucking plans tonight, asshole. And even if we didn't, I wouldn't have wanted to spend time with you anyway. Why the fuck would I?"

"Harsh, Jazz, that's hurtful," Emmett starts to say.

"We can do it tomorrow," Edward mutters.

"Do what?" I ask.

"This double-date thing, we can go out with Emmett and Jake, if that's still who he's dating, tomorrow."

"Aw, good boy," Emmett encourages. "But also harsh for basically calling me a whore."

"We don't have to," I tell Edward.

"We should," he decides.

"I'm so glad one of you remembers who got you two back together."

Then Edward really gets tense. "What? What does that mean?"

"Ah, shit. I forgot that I never got my ass chewed for that," Emmett mutters.

Now it's my turn. "What?" I ask, confused.

"You never told him I came over that night. I figured you would tell him, but I guess since he's such a jealous bastard you figured it was better you didn't. That's what I meant when I said he was going to be pissed when he found out what I did. He specifically asked me to leave you alone, which obviously just made me want to hang out with you more."

"You son of a bitch!" Edward snaps, grabbing my phone away from me. "I fucking told you to stay away from him... I don't fucking care! ... I'm working on that. I have no reason to trust  _you_  at all... I don't fucking care!" His voice continuously raises as he bitches at Emmett. "So, what, you're saying that the only reason he's with me is because of you? ... I fucking love him, you asshole! ... I don't care that you care about him too... That's besides the point, you prick. We're happy together and we don't seem to ever have a fucking problem until you stick your nose where it doesn't belong... That's not a joke, quit laughing."

I sigh and walk away, carefully sitting on Edward's bed with my bare, pink ass. Edward and Emmett yell at each other for about ten minutes and Edward is practically hoarse by the time he hangs up. I'm scared we're going to fight again, but confident that I won't leave again. I love him too much, I need him. I think he feels the same way.

"Fuck me, he's such a pain in the ass," Edward laughs, falling down onto the bed next to me.

It makes me bounce a little and I squirm and wince, because it hurts both my ass and dick. Christ...

"Sorry, baby," he says, stroking his fingers along my spine. "We're meeting Emmett and Jake at Winslow's tomorrow night at six-thirty."

"What?" I ask, looking over my shoulder at him.

He shrugs. "It's okay that you didn't tell me that he came over to talk to you. I get why you didn't. I'm sorry that I overreact when I know you don't want anything to do with him."

"I didn't purposely not tell you," I explain. "It honestly slipped my mind. There were other things that were more important otherwise I would have brought it up."

He nods. "I should have realized. I mean, he's Emmett, he's always where he doesn't belong. How else would you have known who my bruise was from anyway?"

I sigh and carefully lean back to lay next to Edward. He smiles at me and rolls over toward me, vigilantly making sure he doesn't touch my sunburn.

"I guess I should be thanking him, though."

"I thanked him enough for the both of us," I tell Edward. His face blanches and I realize what I just said. "No, that's not what I mean! I mean I told him thanks like seven times," I say honestly. "I kissed him that one time that you saw and that was it, nothing more, ever."

He nods. "Sorry, I didn't mean to jump to conclusions."

"No, I worded that terribly. I don't blame you." I reach up and brush my fingers over his ribs and his eyes fall closed and his lips quirk up. "Love you."

He smiles. "Love you too."

I sigh. "I thought we were going to have a fight."

His smile tightens slightly and I wonder if I've just fucked myself for saying that. "I'm still angry that you were calling yourself easy."

"Why?" I wonder.

"It bothers me. I..." He swallows and his eyes shut more firmly, his smile turns into a grimace. "It makes me think that you were easy with those other guys, and you aren't easy with me. I know, I'm more, I guess I'm just jealous, I mean, obviously I am, but..."

"Oh," I breathe. I didn't expect that.

"I'm really sorry if I'm not moving fast enough for you."

"Shit, Edward, don't," I say, shoving my hand into his hair, hoping he'll open his eyes. "Don't fucking think that shit. You're moving plenty fast, today was a huge step and I'm just fine. I don't want to push you, and I'm trying really hard not to. I want you to set the pace, I want what you're comfortable with.  _I_ 'm really sorry that you think we're not moving fast enough. I think we're fine."

He opens his eyes and then rolls them at me. "You know, I think that you were really good at what you did. I think that if you wanted to, you could push me to do exactly what you wanted. I'm glad that you haven't, but I think you should."

"You want me to push you?" I ask dubiously.

He nods. "I have been the one making all the moves, baby. It's your turn."

"Hey, I made one today," I defend. "I gave you head, that was a move."

He smirks. "One I greatly appreciated. I'm just sorry that I can't reciprocate." He frowns down at my poor cock.

I quickly change the subject, fearing my newly lost erection will come back. "What are our plans for tonight?"

Edward pauses, and I think he's nervous for some reason. I watch him closely. It takes him a moment to finally look at me, and his smile appears slightly forced. "Well, first I need to get dressed."

"Do I have to get dressed?" I ask. I hope not, because I'm afraid of what clothing is going to do to my nether regions.

He shakes his head, chuckling slightly. "No, you can stay nude. But you can't sit on my piano bench, I don't want ass marks on it."

Is he saying what I think he's saying? I gasp and he gets nervous, and I know I'm right. "You're going to play for me?"

He nods. "We should eat first."

I'm a ball of excitement while Edward is a ball of nerves as we wait for our Chinese food to come. I can't wait for him to play and he seems rather reluctant about the whole thing, but he offered. I don't get what he's so nervous about.

I guess I can empathize though, I was scared as fuck to show him my drawings and even more afraid to show him the obsession painting. It was about time he played for me though, so I'm not letting him back out.

I eat standing up in the kitchen while Edward sits on the counter next to me. He keeps eying my egg roll—my  _actual_  egg roll not... that. I laugh when he finally asks if I'm going to eat it.

"I'll give you my egg roll if you let me eat dessert off of you later," I joke.

"Okay," he agrees immediately, snatching my egg roll.

We finish our food rather quickly—Edward really likes Chinese food, and egg rolls. Then he nervously leads me up the stairs.

"Should I freshen up first?" I ask in a forced high-pitched voice. He turns to glare at me and I chuckle.

Once in the 'secret room'—no, it will never lose that name—he releases me and takes a deep breath. I decide not to follow him as he heads over to the piano and I'm glad that I don't because he starts petting it like it's an object for worshiping or something. I burrow my way into the giant pillow-floor bed and make my naked self comfy while I wait him out.

I swear I can hear him muttering to himself from across the damn room. I don't know if he thinks he's bad or what, but I wish he would just get it over with already. He's making me fucking anxious with all of his nervous energy.

I'm flipping through a book he has thrown in the bed when he starts playing. I can honestly say that my mouth drops open, my head whips in his direction, and my eyes gape.

Holy fucking shit.

He's playing Clocks by Coldplay. With his eyes closed. Fucking beautifully. Perfectly.

I believe I have a small orgasm.

And I think he knows it because he's smirking like a motherfucker. He looks confident as fuck now.

What the hell was he so nervous about?


	11. Chapter 11

After he finishes Clocks, I applaud. His face gets red and he glares at me.

"Knock it the fuck off," he grumbles.

I glare back. "Come make me."

"I'll slap your sunburn if you don't stop clapping," he warns.

I stop with a huff. "What the fuck? I can't even applaud for my brilliant boyfriend? I fucking knew you had talented fingers. Is there anything you can't do?"

He toys with the keys, playing a melody I don't recognize and I wonder if it's original. "I can't suck cock very well," he mutters.

I huff again. "You haven't even tried. I'm willing to bet you're fucking amazing at that too. You should play another and sing for me," I encourage.

"I'm not singing," he says finally.

"Why? You sang me Halestorm, singing Coldplay would hardly kill you."

He blushes, for whatever reason, and mutters something. I tell him to speak up. "I said I can't believe I fucking sang in front of you at all."

"Why? You have a good voice."

"I'm not good at performing in front of people," he goes on.

"Fine," I say. I grab a blanket and toss it over the top of me.

He starts chuckling and he continues to play the unrecognized tune. I hear him sigh and clear his throat and my entire body tingles with anticipation.

The song transforms into The Scientist and Edward softly starts to sing. My throat constricts immediately and I'm so glad that I'm underneath the blanket so he can't see my reaction. I'm fucking emotional today, apparently.

I love his voice and I love his music; I love him. I have never been a commitment type of guy, but I could already imagine myself with Edward years from now. I couldn't even consider the possibility of not being with him without getting sick to my stomach. If there were such thing as soul mates, he is mine. It sounds cheesy, even to me, but I am sure that I want to be with him forever.

The song ends and I'm gulping for breath under the blanket trying to calm myself down. I hear the bench scrape lightly against the floor and I quickly rub my face with the blanket, hoping he won't be able to tell that I've let my inner woman come out, again.

He doesn't pull the blanket off of me. I can feel him close and I'm breathing heavy, waiting for him to do whatever it is that he's planning. His hands scare the shit out of me when they both are suddenly under the blanket and I shriek as he starts to tickle my ribs and torso.

"Ouch! Ouch! Sunburned... ass!" I cry as I squirm, trying to get away from his tickling.

I finally am able to catch his wrists and I pull, making him fall on top of me. I grunt as his weight hits me and he quickly rolls off. I go with him, swinging my leg over his hips to straddle him. I keep his wrists in my hands and pin them down above his head, holding him there. He's so fucking compliant, and I fucking love it. I think he likes it when I pin him down, I can feel his cock hardening.

His eyes are serious as he scans my face and I think he knows that he made me cry—in the good way—but he doesn't say anything, and he lets me pretend like it didn't happen. I lean down to kiss him and he meets me with an eager mouth. The kiss is pure feeling; love and lust, passion and adoration.

An idea forms and I just can't kick it, I want my fucking dessert. I pull away from his lips and whisper, "Don't move."

As always, he obeys. So fucking hot. I hope someday we can tag team on this submissive-dominant thing. I want to submit to him once.

I try to move quickly, but the sunburn kind of inhibits my movement. I head for the fridge and yank open the freezer, digging around until I find some plain vanilla ice cream. I grab a spoon and go back up the stairs.

Edward is exactly where I left him, arms above his head and everything. He eyes me curiously, but I'm hiding what I've brought behind my back so he can't see it. I climb back on top of him and lean down to start kissing him again. He quickly forgets all about the fact that I'm hiding something and I change my position, bringing the ice cream in front of me. The top pops off soundlessly and I set it aside and dig in, getting a huge glob. I set the ice cream on the little table off to the side and just barely pull my lips away from Edward's.

"Time for dessert," I whisper, not giving him time to react before I drop the chunk of ice cream on his chest.

"Fuck! Cold!" he gasps, his muscles tensing in the most pleasing fucking way.

"Mm," I moan, leaning down to lick him, and the ice cream.

"Could have fucking warned me," he grumbles.

"Where is the fun in that, baby?" I ask, lapping at him with my tongue, making a mess.

"Fuck. Fuck!" he gasps.

My spoon dripped more ice cream, right on his nipple. I greedily move there, swirling my tongue around it to clean away the sticky ice cream—and just to taste him. He moans and I chuckle, going back down further to lick away the melted residue. I get up on all fours, following the trail the ice cream has left as it slid down onto his stomach. He's sucking in and the ice cream is just sitting there, pooling, in a shallow dip.

As I lap at it, I grasp his pants in my hands, pushing them down as far as I can while he refuses to lift up for me. "Lift," I command.

"No, I don't want ice cream on my dick."

I laugh. "If you don't lift nothing is going to be on your dick, is that what you want?"

He whimpers. "Don't put ice cream on it."

I hadn't planned on it, but I don't bother telling him that as he lifts his hips and I shove his pants down as far as I can reach. He kicks them off the rest of the way.

I scoop up another dollop of ice cream and drop this one right into his bellybutton. He hisses and his hips buck slightly, and it's fucking ridiculously hot. His whole body clenches in reaction to the temperature difference of his body and the frozen treat; again, just fucking hot. I eat the ice cream out of his bellybutton and start lick along his 'V'. I swear, even without the fucking ice cream he's the tastiest thing ever.

"No cold on the cock," he begs.

I lick up his cock when he least expects it and he hisses and bucks. "Is that cold?" I ask.

"No, no, that's okay," he moans.

I roll my eyes and tell him, "Over."

"What?"

"Oh-ver," I draw out.

He looks at me questioningly and I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to obey. He finally does and the sight is just fucking amazing. His ass cheeks are clenched tighter than the security at fucking Supermax prison.

My cock is super excited over his ass, and lets his joy be known by picking now as the opportune moment to drip. Right on his ass.

It's kind of hilarious how he flinches.

"Was that...?" he trails off questioningly.

"Yeah," I chuckle. "Sorry. It knows what it wants."

Unthinkingly, I go to wipe the precum away, and my thumb dips into the top of his crack a little bit. Somehow he manages to clench his ass tighter. Talk about buns of steel, Christ.

"Fucking relax," I mutter. "I'm not going to shove anything up your ass just because it's there, fuck."

His head drops and he sighs. "I know, I'm sorry, I just..."

"What?" I ask after he trails off.

"I just didn't know what you wanted to do back there."

"It's fine, just turn back over."

"No," he says. Then he unclenches a little. "You have to push me," he persuades.

"No, I don't. Come on, just turn back over and I'll give you a blowjob."

Somehow, even that doesn't fucking work. And my cock drips again, which turns his ass back into the ADMAX—or Alcatraz pre-1963.

"I have no reason to be so fucking nervous about you being back there, so would you just fucking do whatever you were going to do and let me get the fuck over this?"

"How do you know what I plan on doing doesn't involve your ass?" I ask. I don't like that he's nervous and I don't want to fucking push him when he obviously isn't ready for me to be anywhere near his ass.

"I don't, and I don't fucking care. I wish you would just do something. I fucking know it's suppose to feel good, but I just... I'm fucking scared."

"That's why I don't want to fucking go there, yet. You have to realize there is nothing to be afraid of. I'm not going to hurt you, you have to trust me."

"I fucking do trust you, I know you love me and that you're not going to hurt me, but fuck, Jasper, nothing has  _ever_ touched me there in a good way."

I pause, suddenly afraid myself for not wondering about this sooner. "Has something touched you there in a bad way?"

"No, fuck," he snaps. "Why would you think that?"

"You're just... more afraid than I'm used to," I admit slowly. As expected, he tenses up again. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to relax.

"So those guys were straight, and they let you...?" he ask quietly, trailing off questioningly again.

"Not all of them. Some of them only topped me and really liked that. But yeah, plenty bottomed, and I never had any complaints. They were all nervous, but it really does feel good if you relax, Edward."

After a lengthy pause, he whispers, "Show me."

I sigh and lean down to start kissing his shoulder. He's so fucking stubborn and he's not going to let this go. I'm not really complaining about that, either. I just really don't like the fact that I feel like I'm pushing him, maybe too quickly. But he's not relenting and he's taunting me with that ass.

I could bounce a fucking quarter off that ass. Damn.

"I fucking love your ass," I groan, sliding my hand over his lower back, just above the perfect swell of his cheeks.

He continues to take deep breaths, choosing not to acknowledge my words. I kiss down over his shoulders, taking my time as I slowly work lower and lower. I cautiously slide my hand onto his butt cheek and his muscles tighten, but he quickly relaxes them as I rub and massage. I shift onto my knees and gently grip his other ass cheek with my now free hand.

As I start to kiss lower, his breathing starts to get shallow and I can feel the nerves kicking in. I know what he thinks I'm going to do, but in all honesty, I've never been much of an ass licker. I mean, I'll do it, but it's just not one of those things that I get all super excited about. Like blowjobs, I get extremely excited for blowjobs. Which is why I plant one firm kiss on his left ass cheek, give his ass a final squeeze, then say, "Turn over, sweet cheeks."

"What?" he asks, sounding surprised, and possibly a little let down. Great, an ass eating fan.

"Oh-ver," I draw out again, giving his ass a little slap.

He rolls and I settle myself between his legs, immediately diving in for a faceful of ballsac. He has hot nuts, I want to motorboat them. I forgo that, for now, and there's tonguing and sucking and licking and my fingers are ticking and scratching his inner thighs and he squirming and moaning. I manage to get his knees bent up and spread without him really noticing what I'm doing. His cock is in my throat and he's grunting and bucking and oh-so slyly I sneak in for a little perineum tickle-tickle.

The wonderful thing about perineal petting is that the less force used, the better. They're sensitive nerves and just the slightest touch ignites a serious response. I get my serious response in the form of him groaning, "Un, fuck, so close," while grabbing a pillow and fisting his hands into it. At least he's learned to lay off the hair.

Then I go in for the man killer. Well, not really, cause the real man killer is a prostate poke combined with a perineum pet while providing penile suction , but since I'm not sticking anything in anywhere without copious amounts of lube for a prostate poke, I settle for the almost man killer. Two knowledgeable fingers gently teasing one extremely tight hole, while the skilled thumbs pets Mr. Perineum.

Hello, Orgasm.

I swear there's going to be feathers everywhere with the way he's tearing at the pillow. Thank fuck it's not my hair. I take a deep breath and plunge down, ready for another round of super soaking of my throat. I'm hoping with his cock in my throat, I won't have such a difficult time swallowing all of the cum my boy has, but it's kind of detrimental position. Gravity works against me and his cum doesn't really shoot where I want it to and I'm swallowing so much to basically no avail. I'm choking worse on his cum this way.

I'm quite disappointed that I have to pull off of him about halfway through, not that he really notices much right now. Fuck me, he's being loud. Apparently he's enjoying himself. His hot little ass is pulsing away at nothing at all and it's so tempting to hawk up a cum-loogy for some lube to stick a finger in. Fuck, I can't wait to get my dick in there.

It takes me a while to clear the cum out of my throat and it takes him just as long to calm down from his orgasm. His body shudders as I pull my hands away from him and I can't help but smile when his cock tries to look lively when it's so obviously exhausted.

He sits up on his elbows, lazily watching me as I trace patterns on the skin of his thigh. "That was... Feel free to do that again."

I chuckle and lean into him, resting my head onto his warm, sweaty chest, not even caring that there is now going to be cum smeared across both of our bellies. He falls back down, taking me with him. His long fingers pull lovingly through my hair and my eyes flutter shut on their own accord.

"Can I do anything for you?" he asks.

I nod. "Just hold me."

His breath catches and I nuzzle into his warmth. "Always," he whispers.

–

"Shit. Shit. Fuck!"

"What?" I groan, rolling.

"Work. Late. Fuck."

I groan again when my ass hits fabric. It feels like I got a spanking, and my dick feels like it also got spanked extra hard. What the fuck?

Then I remember sunburn and piano and pillow bed. Blowjob and ass play and sleeping with the love of my life.

"Shit," I hiss, shooting up.

His ass disappears down the stairs and I hop up to follow. I have no idea what time it is, but once again, I think I've managed to make him late, or almost late.

I can hear a continuous string of curses being rattled off from his bedroom and I pause, slightly afraid that he's going to be angry with me. Okay, I'm more than just slightly afraid, I'm terrified. I never know when he's going to be upset and I never know when it's going to be directed at me.

I hear the shower running and he begins to curse loudly. I can't just stand there...

"Baby, are you okay?" I ask timidly.

"Fucking soap in my fucking eye," he hisses.

I bite my lip, wondering what the hell I'm supposed to do. Should I ask him if he wants me to leave? Asking him might piss him off more, maybe I should just go. But what if he doesn't want me to leave? God, this fucking relationship shit is hard—having an unpredictable, moody boyfriend only makes it that much more difficult.

I'm standing there in his bathroom, completely frozen and unsure what to do when he gets out of the shower. He doesn't bother with a towel and he's walking right for me and I flinch when he raises his arms at me.

He stops, mid... whatever he was going to do and gives me a quizzical look, his brow creased together. "Jasper, what's wrong?"

I gulp, though my mouth is already dry. "It scares me when you are upset. I never know if it's me," I rush out, my voice quiet and unconfident.

"Baby," he sighs, wrapping his arms around my neck. "I'm not upset with you."

He leans into me, kissing me softly at first. Hesitant, gentle pecks on my lips leave me wanting more and he deepens the kiss after I beg silently with parted, urging lips. The kiss is intense. My fear slips away and his anger dissipates until the only thing left is love. And want.

He breaks away suddenly. "I'm sorry, Jasper, but I have to go to work. I love you, don't fucking be afraid of me," he begs. I can see the plea in his eyes, and I honestly feel ashamed for doubting him.

I nod. "I'm sorry, I won't. I love you too."

He smiles lightly and steps away from me. "I can feel the heat coming off of your sunburn, it must be fucking painful. Put some shit on there, and take some ibuprofen."

He continues to talk as he walks bare-assed naked out of his bathroom, but I only catch the last half of what he says because his ass is fucking delectable, especially when all wet. He goes on about me staying here if I fucking want to, using what-the-fuck-ever I want to, eating every-fucking-thing I want, and wearing his fucking clothing if I fucking want to. He swears a lot.

"Just let me know if I need to meet you here or back at your place tonight, okay?" He asks, peeking around the corner at me. I'm still standing there, rather out of it. He snickers. "Can you do me a big favor and have food ready for me? I have a feeling today is going to be a bitch of a day."

I approach him slowly and he winds his arms low around my waist, though not low enough to bother my sunburn. "You're forgetting something," I say.

"What?"

"You made an agreement with someone to double-date tonight, sexy."

"Fuck," he hisses, dropping his head down into my shoulder. "Stupid fucking Emmett and his butt buddy."

I try not to be offended, but I can't help it, really. "Emmett and Jacob are a couple," I defend.

He snorts at that. "Has Emmett ever even had a relationship that wasn't based on sex?" Edward asks, thoughtlessly. He obviously didn't think that one through at all. I want to let it go, I want to laugh it off, but I'm not fucking Emmett, and it hurts.

I try to pull away from Edward but I think he realizes what he just did and he clings to me. "Shit, baby, don't, I didn't mean—"

"I'm the one who is the whore," I say, cutting him off. "Emmett has had boyfriends, I'm the one who always had 'butt buddies'. I'm the whore."

"No," Edward argues, begs, trying to hold onto me as I try to fight him off. "Baby, I didn't mean it like that, I was just being an asshole. You're not a whore."

I stop fighting and Edward grips my arms, pushing away enough to look at me while I stubbornly stare down and away from him. It's not his fault I was the whore, I don't even really care that he said anything, I just fucking hate that Emmett was the one he was poking at. Emmett is the one who knows about love and knows how to be in a relationship, I'm the fucking whore, I should be the one Edward is making fun of. Emmett doesn't deserve it.

"I can't do this right now," Edward implores. "If I don't leave right now, I'm going to be late."

"Go," I urge, not looking away from the one spot of stained grout on the perfectly white floor.

"Don't." His hands grasp my face firmly and my eyes are snapped to his forcefully, yet all too willingly I keep his gaze when he releases me. "Don't fucking push me away," he demands, bright green eyes hard with emotion and soft with his plea, and tears.

"Sorry," I breathe, reaching out to grasp his hands.

"I wasn't fucking calling you a whore," he insists, squeezing my hands tightly, like he's holding onto me, as if I'd flee.

I nod. "I know you weren't. You were calling Emmett a whore, but he's not the whore. Emmett is very loyal and he's a good man, he doesn't deserve to be called a whore when the actual whore is standing right in front of you. Emmett isn't the one who has fucked countless men without a hint of feeling or regret."

"Jasper, don't."

"It's not you I'm upset with," I assure him. "I'm the whore, Edward, that's not your fault. I made my bed, and now that I have to lie in it, it's not looking so comfortable. Don't worry, okay? I'll meet you at Winslow's."

"Meet me? Can't I pick you up?"

"You already said you think today is going to be stressful at work, I'll just meet you there."

"Jasper—"

"Trust me, okay? Just this once? I'll meet you there. I love you, now go to work."

I urge him away and he goes, but he doesn't go willingly. I can see that I've completely fucking freaked him out now, and he doesn't want to go. But I gave him my word, and he has to trust me.

He leaves, but I hear his fist connect with sheetrock along the way, and the sound of the front door slamming rattles through the house.

He has to trust me. It's not him that I'm upset with right now. I really fucking hate myself, though.

–

Edward texts me a couple times during the day.

 _The past isn't important._

 _It doesn't matter to me. I don't care what you've done._

 _I'm sorry._

 _Please text me back or I'm coming to find you._

I quickly texted him back that it was okay, not to worry, and that I would see him in a little bit.

His reply really choked me up.  _I love you_.

I sent him one back letting him know that I loved him too, that I missed him, and that I was sorry if I made his day that much worse.

It was a bad day for me, that is for fucking sure. My sunburn is killing me and I have more regrets than I can count on both my fingers and toes.

I want to be a different person for Edward, a better man. I want to be someone he can trust, not just because I know that I'll never cheat on him, but because I want him to be confident in the fact that I'll never want anyone else. I don't want to be the man with the God complex anymore, I don't want to be the one who fucked the straight out of a guy. I want to be more, a good man, Edward's man.

But he seems to already think that I am more, that I am a good man. He says it doesn't matter, the past isn't important, but for me it all matters. I don't want to be a hypocrite, so I trust him. I trust that he knows what he wants, I trust that he loves me, even though I'm flawed. And I love him so fucking much, despite his own flaws, and I think that maybe that is how love works. You push beyond the past and you let it go. When you love someone, you forgive them their failures and you care for them unconditionally.

I spend a long fucking time getting ready to meet Edward, and the other two, at Winslow's. I want to look good for him, I want him to want me, I want him to be proud of me. Mostly I want to be someone he can be proud of, though today my shortcomings are on the forefront of my mind and I doubt that anyone would be proud of me, despite how good I can make myself look on the outside.

I have to shower twice because the first time I used an aftershave that smelled horrendous. By the time I'm finished, I'm finally fucking confident that I look good enough, and I'm running late. I still manage to take five minutes extra in the parking lot double checking my appearance and trying to calm myself down. I'm so fucking nervous.

Eventually I'm able to calm my nerves down enough to get the fuck out of my car and into the restaurant. Once inside, I start to scan the tables, but I can't find them. I consider approaching the hostess to ask where the fuck she seated my fuckhot boyfriend, but I hear a sigh and immediately recognize it.

I turn to see a look of relief on Edward's face as he approaches me and stuffs his phone in his pocket. His hair is a mess and he has a huge stain on his shirt, he looks fucking tired and I know he's probably had a terrible day, mostly because of me. He starts to approach me, but when I turn to face him fully, he stops and stares. My face heats as I realize that he's quite blatantly giving me the up-down, and he seems to approve. His eyes darken and he licks his lips before he starts to slowly approach me again. It makes me tingle. Seriously, his stare is fucking powerful and my skin feels like it's on fire.

He falters a few steps away, uncertainty obvious on his face. I take a hesitant step forward and he leans toward me, inhaling. He stares at me questioningly and I wonder if I still smell like that terrible fucking aftershave. I break his eye contact and try to inconspicuously smell myself, but all I can smell is cologne, the aftershave isn't there anymore.

"Jasper, why do you smell different?" he asks quietly.

I know what he means, because normally I'm lazy and cheap and I just use Axe. But today felt special, so I used some of the two-hundred dollar cologne that I only wear on extremely important occasions. It doesn't feel like he's asking me about my cologne choice though.

"That, my friend, is Jasper's five-year-old Chanel Allure that he never fucking wears. Smells nice, doesn't it? Fucking cheapskate bought the shit and refuses to wear it because it cost him so much," Emmett answers, throwing his fucking huge arm over my boyfriend's shoulder.

The relief is evident on Edward's face and it's my turn to stare questioningly. He breaks our eye contact to look at his shoes. "I should have went home and changed. You look really nice, and I look like fucking shit," he deflects.

But I know what he had been thinking. He thought I smelled like another man. He thought I was with someone else...

"You look fine," I say rather lackadaisically.

"Great, now that that's settled. Can we fucking eat? I'm starving. This asshole wouldn't let us be seated until you showed up," Emmett cuts in.

"How the fuck does that make me the asshole?" Edward snaps. "And get the fuck off of me."

"So I'm the asshole for being late?" I ask.

"Yes," Emmett answers, but I'm not asking him.

"No," Edward replies, finally meeting my eyes again. "That's not what I meant. Emmett is the asshole for wanting to be seated without you. Or maybe I'm the asshole," he mutters, looking back down at his shoe.

"No," I say.

"Great, now that that is also settled," Emmett sighs. "Jasper, Jake, Jake, Jasper," he motions.

"We've met," I say.

"No shit," Emmett deadpans. "The whole point of the introduction is that I wanted to make sure everyone had the names right since you lied like a dirty whore to him when you met him."

I frown and Edward tenses. "Don't fucking call him that," he growls at Emmett.

"It's fine," I say.

"No, it's not fucking fine," Edward snaps, this time at me. "You're not a fucking whore."

"Jesus Christ, you two drama queens can just work this shit out over here, we're going to eat," Emmett mutters, grabbing Jake's hand to lead him to the hostess.

I silently follow while Edward flounces behind me.

"Table for four, I guess," Emmett tells the hostess. "Away from the crowd preferably because these two are having a lover's quarrel or something." The hostess laughs and Emmett blankly says, "Seriously."

She gets uncomfortable then, eying Edward and I furtively, though I notice her doing it clear as fucking day. Bitch.

Shit gets even more awkward as we're seated and all four of us just fucking sit there like a bunch of dumbshits. No one talks. The only one moving is Emmett, who never sits still anyway. He's like a fucking four-year-old.

"Would you stop?" I gripe at him after he hit me in the head with a paper football.

"No," he says plainly, dropping off of his chair to crawl under the table to find his missing toy.

I jump when his face is shoved in my crotch. "Jake, would you fucking do something?" I yelp.

Jake just shrugs, looking amused. You've got to be fucking kidding me! "Emmett, I swear to God, I'm going to fucking sac-tap you so hard if you don't get off of my goods right now."

"I found it," he mumbles into my cock.

I don't know what he's found, but I wasn't kidding. Why isn't Edward fucking backing me up right now? I look over for some support, but he's quite obviously looking the other direction on this one, literally and figuratively. Fucking seriously!

"Got it!" Emmett exclaims, thankfully not in my crotch anymore.

I excuse myself to use the bathroom, in need of a second to breathe. Tonight isn't going as well as I'd hoped it would. It started off good, the way he looked at me, but fuck, downhill from there. I still fucking look great, minus my eyes that are fixedly blank. I can't believe he thought I was with someone else, and I can't fucking believe he let Emmett manhandle me.

 _Deep breath, just breathe._

I guess it's what I fucking deserve.

Keeping that in mind, I make it back out to our table. I'm not going to hold anything against Edward, this shit is my fault.

I pause as I take in my table with curiosity. Emmett is leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his chin on his hands, watching with avid attention as who I assume is our waitress talks to Edward. Jacob is smirking at Emmett, his arm across the back of Em's chair. But that's not what is so intriguing. The waitress looks familiar, and I don't come to Winslow's often. I have no idea how I would know her.

She's tiny, fucking slender, boney, and short tiny. Then it clicks. She's boney, grinding girl. And she's chatting up my boyfriend.

I stalk my way over and practically shove her out of my way to take my chair, which I overly move closer to Edward's. The waitress smiles slow and wide, like the fucking Cheshire cat, and it's unnerving. I don't like it.

"What can I do for you?" she asks in a breathy voice.

"You can get us a new server," I say rudely.

I hear Emmett snicker, but I pay him no mind. The waitress' smile disappears quickly. "Why?" she asks.

"Because I don't trust you not to spit in my food," I reply.

She grimaces, taking a step back from her previously inappropriately too-close stance. "I wouldn't do such a thing. I don't hold what you said to me against you," she states firmly.

"Do you even remember what I said to you? You seemed wasted."

She waves her hand dismissively. "It's an act. Pretend to be drunk and the guys know you're a sure thing and are more uninhibited in bed. Works in both of our favors," she explains.

"Okay," I draw out. "I still want a new server."

"Fine, whatever, just one thing first."

"What?" I ask exasperatedly.

"I want in," she replies.

"In what?" I inquire, completely confused.

"Your bed," she drawls, leaning toward us to whip out the cleavage—sadly, I have more cleavage than she does.

I laugh, a bit hysterically, wondering how this night could get any worse. Then it occurs to me that it could. I could find out that Edward suggested this to her, or that he wants it.

Before I can really start panicking, Edward says, "We're not interested, please send us a new server."

"Seriously?" she whines. "So, you two are completely gay? I'm offering myself to you both, no strings attached, I'll do anything! What the fuck, who passes that up?" She turns to Emmett and Jacob. "Are you both completely gay too?"

Emmett salutes her. "Scout's honor. It's only the dirt trail for me, the snail trail doesn't please my piece, if you know what I mean."

"Same here. I've done a couple girls but it just didn't do the job. Plus, we're monogamous," Jake says.

The waitress turns back to Edward and I. "Last chance, boys. I'm really flexible."

"Sorry, no, we only have eyes for each other," Edward says instantaneously.

Emmett snorts to that and Jake 'aw's. I bite my lip and glance at Edward out of the corner of my eye, and catch him doing the same. It's so fucking shy and cute, but it makes me wonder if we're reverting or just being clumsy because of the bad day we've had.

"Fine, I'll send out Chelsea. She's a lesbian, you guys will love her," snaps the little waitress.

"Only figuratively," I snark at her. She glares.

Everything calms down a bit while we order from our new server and eat our meal. The table continues to be awkward, but at least there aren't any more sexual advances. Except from Emmett, but that's to be expected.

While we're trying to decide if we're going to hang out for dessert or if we're just going to call for the bill, Emmett gets unusually quiet—terrifyingly quiet considering that dessert is the topic.

"We can go if you want to," I offer to Edward.

"No, you decide. We'll do whatever you want," is his calm reply.

"I want you to choose. We can share something. Or we can just go."

"It doesn't matter to me."

"The chocolate torte does look good, but I don't think I can eat a whole piece."

"I'll buy you a piece and we can share it."

"No, I'll pay."

"I want to buy it for you."

"I can pay for it myself."

"If you're paying, I don't want any, you can just take whatever you don't want home."

"We should just go."

"But you wanted chocolate cake."

"Oh my God, what the fuck is wrong with you two?" Emmett intervenes. "You've been sidestepping around each other all fucking night. You both keep stealing glances but you won't fucking look at each other and both of you are being extra cautious about what you say. From what I can tell, neither of you has touched the other once tonight. What the fuck is wrong? Did something happen?"

"No," I say.

"Yes," Edward says over me.

We both glace at each other before looking back at Emmett. "So you two are fighting again, already?" he asks.

"Yes," I sigh.

"No," Edward says firmly.

Again, there is a fleeting look from both of us. Chelsea comes back to take our dessert orders and I begrudgingly agree to let Edward pay for a piece of cake for us to share. Chelsea explains that there will be a wait, but Emmett assures her that is fine.

"Talk," he demands of Edward and I. Neither of us jumps into an explanation which makes him sigh impatiently. "Is it sex?"

"No," I state.

"Yes," Edward contradicts, again.

"What?" I ask.

"Em, maybe you shouldn't meddle," Jake suggests.

"Edward, explain," Emmett says, ignoring my confused stare and Jake's suggestion.

"He thinks he's a whore, I disagree," is Edward's stellar explanation.

"How does that have anything to do with sex?" Emmett questions.

"He won't have sex with me because he thinks it makes me another conquest," Edward says.

"I never said that," I defend.

"You didn't have to," Edward retorts.

"Jasper, I want your explanation," Emmett says.

"We had an... incident this morning. Edward called you a whore, and it bothered me because I've definitely slept with more guys than you have and never loved even one of them."

"So what he said is true, because you think you're a whore, you won't sleep with him?" Emmett presses.

"He's not a fucking whore," Edward snaps.

"No. Well, yes," I reply, ignoring Edward. "Because  _he_ thinks I'm a whore, I won't have sex with him."

"Fucking Christ, Jasper, I never called you a whore! I don't think you're a whore. I fucking love you," he whisper-yells.

I can feel his breath on my neck and I know he's facing me, but we still have that perfect amount of distance between us to keep us from actually touching. I slowly turn towards him. "When you smelled my cologne, you thought I had been with another man," I say, looking directly into his eyes.

He twitches slightly and I know it's guilt. He feels bad for thinking it, but he  _did_ think it. "Did you?" Emmett asks.

"Yes," Edward admits, not breaking eye contact. "But that's not because I think you're a whore, Jasper. I'm sorry that I don't trust you completely, but I don't fucking trust anyone completely. I'm fucking working on it, so yes, I did wonder if you had been with someone else, but I only wondered it. I didn't actually believe that you would do that to me."

"I wouldn't," I promise.

"I know," he insists.

"But you still wondered, because I'm a whore," I say flatly, breaking the eye contact.

"Fuck, Jasper, are you trying to fucking push me away?" he asks, grabbing my face and forcing me to look back at him.

"No," I tell him honestly. "But you need to fucking realize that I am a fucking whore."

"Oh my God," he deadpans. "Are you fucking serious right now? Do you want me to call you a whore? Will that make you hot? Is that what you want?"

"No," I reply blankly. "But I need you to understand that I planned on fucking you and never seeing you again, that is what I did, which makes me a whore."

He groans and then takes a deep breath. "I fucking know what your plan was, but you fell in love with me and now you don't even  _want_ to have sex with me so just fucking stop, okay? You had whorish ways before you met me, I'm not denying that at all, you're not perfect, but fuck, Jasper, we all fuck up. Before I met you, I was an antisocial bastard who drank too fucking much, would you like me to start labeling myself as an alcoholic hermit?"

"No, and I never said I don't want to have sex with you. I don't even know how you could think that."

"Are you done calling yourself a whore?"

"Maybe. Are you going to trust me?"

"I do trust you, but fuck, baby, it's hard for me."

"It's hard for me too. How do you think it feels for me waking up every day and knowing that I love you, but thinking that you're better off without me because of the shit I've done? I don't deserve you."

"How can you even fucking think that? You fucking saw what us being apart did to me, Jasper. Don't fucking do this to me again. You deserve me. You fucked up, so what? I've fucked up too! We all have. Why are you so fucking stuck in the past? Why can't you just be with me and forget about that shit? If I can forget about it, so can you!"

"But you're not forgetting, Edward, you're just pushing it into the back of your mind because you don't want to think about it. Just because you can pretend it didn't happen, doesn't make that the truth. I changed so many people who didn't want to be changed."

"Did they complain? Did they come back to you and tell you that you ruined their lives? No, not one of them did. I don't fucking care, Jasper. I just want to be with you, regardless of how many guys you fucked. That just makes it better for me, right? You know every fucking trick in the book. Last night was scary as fuck for me, I tried to hide it, but I'm sure you fucking knew I was freaking out. You changed me too, I'm not fucking complaining. Last night was fucking amazing, and I know now that I'm ready for it, when you're better. I love you, I want you, and I want to be with you. So just knock it off."

I take several deep breaths, trying to think up a retort, but I have nothing. Suddenly I feel like the world's biggest idiot. I lunge at Edward, nearly knocking him backwards with the force of my hug. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him tight, apologizing repeatedly. He shushes me and rocks me and strokes my back and I claim his mouth with as much love as I can express without using words.

"I'm so sorry," I say again, breaking away from the kiss. "The morning fucking started off bad. I was so afraid you were going to be pissed at me for last night or waking up late. Then I overreacted about what you said, and shit just spiraled. I was being oversensitive and probably feeling a little insecure because of my past. I'm so fucking sorry that I was a total asshole to you. I think someone is feeding me estrogen."

He laughs and smooths my hair. "It's okay, baby. I'm just normally the moody one, I don't know how to fucking handle it when you have a bad day. I don't fucking like it when you put yourself down, don't do that shit again, okay?"

I nod and kiss him again. He moans when I slowly run my hands down over his chest, and responds by doing the same, only he doesn't stop moving lower until he's gripping my hips. Unfortunately, we're in public, and our perfect little bubble has to be popped at some point.

"You guys are fucking weird," Emmett mutters.

"What happened last night?" Jake asks, way too innocently.

"Yeah," Emmett says, leaning forward eagerly.

"Nothing," I answer, straightening my shirt a little.

"Naw, something definitely happened last night, it was mentioned quite a few times in there." Emmett turns to Jake. "It wasn't the butt sex, because Edward said something about being 'ready for it'. The 'it' is definitely Jasper's cock. I think he got finger fucked last night." Jake nods, obviously concurring. I can't even bring myself to look over to see how Edward is reacting to this. "He's blushing, I think we're right," Emmett laughs.

I peek over at Edward to see that his face is indeed red, but he shrugs at Emmett and Jake's comments and leans back into his chair comfortably, reaching his arm out to toy with the collar of my shirt. Oh my god, I love him so fucking much.

"Nice," Emmett says, reaching over the table to high-five me. I ignore him completely, so he frowns and offers the raised hand to Edward, who also ignores him. "Fuck you both. You're a couple of prudes. I was getting finger fucked on our fourth date. How long have you been dating now, months?"

"You know what they say about those who wait," Edward whispers suggestively, sliding his fingers into my hair.

"Yeah, their dick shrivels up and falls off, that's what," Emmett says. "Oh, goody! Our cake."

Sure enough, Chelsea is finally coming with our cake. She apologizes profusely for the long wait, but apparently there was an unexpected increase of torte orders and they ran short.

Edward and I only ordered one piece for the both of us, but I try not to pout when he pulls the lone plate to his side of the table. He can have the cake for all I care, he deserves it after my bitchiness. I'm just fucking happy he hasn't left my  _men_ struating ass.

He slices off the tip of the cake with his fork and my mouth waters at the layers of chocolate—oh my god, am I seriously on the fucking rag or what?

I expect him to eat it, but instead he's raising the fork to my lips.

"I don't know if that's creepy or just hot," I hear Emmett whisper.

I don't pay attention to him as I open my mouth. Edward carefully slides the fork in and I wrap my lips around the tines. I moan at the rich flavor, and I hear Edward sigh in response.

"Fuck, that's just really hot," Jake groans quietly.

They are so ruining this fucking moment.

Edward comes back with another bite of cake, again offering it to me. I lean forward to take it, purposely bracing my hands on his thigh. He's the one who moans this time when I wrap my lips around the fork.

"We need to buy cake," Edward says deeply. "It's almost as good as ice cream."

I grin at him. "You should see what I can do with chocolate syrup."

"Holy fuck, they're kinky," Emmett whispers. "They should make a porno."

"I'd watch that," Jake whispers back.

I roll my eyes and steal the fork from Edward before he can get another bite for me. It's my turn to feed him.

Feeding him is somehow even more erotic than being fed by him.

When the piece of cake is gone, both Edward and I are painfully hard, and I can see his cock throbbing through his pants—and mine just fucking hurts in a bad way thanks to the goddamn sunburn. I think both of us are just waiting for the fucking check now so we can get the fuck home.

After my hissy fit, he deserves a really fucking good blowjob, and I'm going to fucking give it to him.


	12. Chapter 12

Over the next two weeks, there is a whole lot of fucking blowjobs for Edward, as well as progressing ass play. His confidence in the butt play department has grown considerably. He fucking seeks it out these days. The first time I brought the lube out, he got really fucking nervous again, but since then there hasn't been anymore super-clenching. Even after a few days of actual fingering though, I can still just get the tip of one finger in before he gets wigged out. He says it feels weird. I tell him to relax, he tries to, but he fucking insists that it just feels weird. I fucking tried to explain to him that 'the good spot' is further in then he's letting me reach, but he really doesn't seem to think I know what I'm talking about.

My cock is feeling severely abandoned, poor thing. I thought within the first couple days there I was going to fucking explode. I couldn't touch it because the sunburn hurt so fucking badly, and then, of course, when the pain faded, the goddamn thing started to peel. That was so ungodly fucking disgusting that I wouldn't even take my underwear off in Edward's presence, which honestly bothered him. I fucking freaked out on him when he tried to take them off after I told him 'no', and he hasn't tried again since, thank God. My cock looked hideous, along with my ass. I could at least masturbate, but I sure as hell wasn't letting him see my dick looking like  _that_. So basically, I had to resort to doing it myself or dry humping him again.

Not that I minded humping him. That shit was nice. But fuck, I wanted a fucking handjob or, Christ, a fucking blowjob! No, what I really wanted was to get fucking laid, but that wasn't possible yet.

To say I am growing sexually frustrated is such a huge fucking understatement. I  _need_  to get fucked. Hard.

I sigh, and try to think about something else, because I really should stop thinking about sex.

Edward stayed at my house with me last night. He didn't have to go to work or school today, and oddly enough, I had to get the fuck away from him. He was busy writing a fucking paper, which seems innocent enough, I know, but when I left, he was in nothing more than a pair of dark gray boxer-briefs and his reading glasses.

I was ready to mount him like a fucking horse jockey. Saddle up and ride hard, all the way to the finish line...

Now you understand why I had to leave. He was just being all innocent and adorable in my bed writing his fucking paper and I was ready to tap his ass harder than a fucking frat boy taps a keg.

My cock is basically done healing and peeling by now, which only makes shit worse. Well, not really, it makes shit better since I don't have to feel self-conscious about it anymore, but it's not okay that I'm thinking about feeding him my cock. Fuck, I just want those lips wrapped around me. I want to bust a nut on his fucking tongue. I also really fucking want to feel his tight ass squeezing me.

This little shopping trip isn't working at all... Even my favorite local art supply shop isn't doing a good job of distracting me. I buy a box of graphite pencils and a new drawing tablet and leave.

I can't keep my mind off of Edward while I drive home and I'm painfully fucking hard by the time I arrive. I don't know what the fuck to do with myself. He told me his paper isn't due for another week, but he just wanted to get a head start on it. Fuck, I really fucking need him right now. Maybe he'll understand.

If not, I guess I always have the shower.

I'm practically shaking I'm so fucking horny. I kind of just toss my art supplies into my art room and make my way back to the bedroom, where I think he probably is still working on his paper.

The fucking sight of him makes me groan and reach down the rub myself through my jeans. He's on his fucking knees and elbows, ass in the air and pointed right the fuck at me. If that's not a fucking sign, I don't know what is. I'm not even sure which is hottest, his tight ass, his long, strong back, or his muscular thighs.

He has earbuds in so he hasn't heard me yet, and I quickly lose my clothes, except my briefs. He feels the bed shift as I climb onto it and he pulls his earbuds out and looks at me over his shoulder.

"Hey, baby, I didn't hear you get back."

I keep crawling across the bed and grab his computer, setting it on the nightstand that holds my lube, which I get out and toss onto the bed next to my pillows for easy reach. Edward raises an eyebrow at me.

I lean down and kiss him and he goes to move to make the kiss easier, but I reach back and grab his hip to stop him. "Stay on your knees," I instruct quietly. He bites his lip, looking shy and amused, and maybe slightly aroused. He then reaches to take his glasses off and I grab his hand. "Absolutely not, baby, leave those fuckhot glasses on."

"I look like a fucking dork with glasses on, Jasper, don't be fucking ridiculous!" he laughs.

"Dorks are sexy, baby, and you're their fucking outrageously good-looking leader. You guys should have a convention, just make sure that I'm there with a video camera, for, uh, research purposes." He rolls his eyes at me and goes to take them off again. "Baby! I'm serious, leave them on!"

He sighs and rolls his eyes at me again, but he seems to comply by leaving them on when he leans in to kiss me. I groan into his mouth, mumbling about how fucking hot he looks. I think he knows what I'm saying because he bites me, which just makes him that much more fucking sexy.

With a deep breath and one drawn out scan of his hot as sin body, I urge his upper body up off of the bed and settle in behind him. I put my legs on the outside of his and press my rock-hard, begging cock up against his sexy as fuck tight ass. I lean in to kiss his shoulder while I grip his hips and start to rock us slowly.

"I'm going to push you," I warn.

"Okay," he sighs.

"Our underwear can stay on," I assure him.

"They don't have to."

I smile into his shoulder and wrap one arm around his torso, bring our bodies closer together. "Tell me when you're ready."

"I'm ready," he says instantly.

I chuckle and reach down, grabbing his semi-hard cock through his undies. "Mm, I mean this kind of ready, baby."

He hisses and his hips buck back into me. "Keep doing that and I don't think I'll have to tell you."

He has a point. I cup his sac through the underwear and he pushes back into me again. "You're obsessed with my nuts," he accuses quietly.

"I love them. I love your cock too. And your ass. I'm just kind of in love with all of you, baby."

"Especially my naughty bits," he says, wriggling his hips back against me.

"Mm, yeah, especially your naughty bits. Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah," he half-moans.

"Do you like being with me?"

He turns his head, giving me a confused look over his shoulder. "Of course I like being with you, I love you."

"I know, baby, I love you too, but I mean, do you really like it? Do you miss pussy?" I'm honestly curious, and I have been for a while. I think I'll be okay, whatever his answer may be, as long as he's honest with me.

"No," he answers quickly. It feels too quick, like a reflex lie. I think he sees me doubting his answer, because he continues. "I only ever had sex with one person that I loved before you, and she was obviously a girl. Every other time I had sex, it was just to get off. With you, the love is there, it's not just sex. It's not just a meaningless way to get mine. I don't miss pussy, and I fucking love being with you."

I kiss his neck in thanks and continue fondling him, though he's basically hard now. "Do you like my cock?" I inquire.

He chuckles a little bit then reaches back and grabs my ass in both of his hands, pulling me hard against him as he rubs his ass back and forth over my cock. "I haven't seen it in quite a while..." he says, trailing off. I bite down on his shoulder and he laughs again. "Okay, okay, yes, I do love your cock."

"Really?" I ask.

"Yeah. I fucking love how hard you get, it's pretty fucking impressive. And I love that when you are hard, it points like straight up."

"It's kind of a curse," I explain. "It's really a pain in the ass if I slip out, because there is no guiding it back in, I actually have to reach the fuck down to get it where I want it."

"That does kind of suck."

"I know."

"I also love your nipples," Edward says offhandedly. "They're pretty fucking hot, like, hotter than chick nipples. I fucking swear yours are more sensitive too."

"Do you like this?" I ask, grinding into his ass.

"Yeah, it's nice. I'm curious what the lube is for though."

"You'll find out," I tell him cryptically.

He kind of sighs in response. "Is something going up my ass?"

"Not today," I reply amusedly.

I let go of Edward's balls to grip his hips as I thrust against his ass a little harder and he pushes his ass out at me, giving me this perfect little bubble of sexy to work myself against. I rest my forehead on his shoulder and watch as I grind into his crack. He's got a super wedgie going on, and I hope he doesn't mind too much.

"What are you looking forward to most?" Edward asks quietly.

"What do you mean?" I wonder.

"What do you want more, my dick in your ass, your dick in my ass, or your dick in my mouth?"

I snort at his crassness and try to think of what to say, but I don't really know what it is that I want to say. All of it sounds good to me, nothing really sounds better than the other. "I would assume that you would give me head before you stuck your dick in my ass, and I think that my dick in your ass is a long ways off yet. I'm looking forward to all of it, whenever you're ready. I guess if you made me choose, it would probably be my dick in your ass because that will be pretty huge for us." I kiss his shoulder and he wiggles his hips. It's really fucking hot watching him rub his ass against me.

"Why do you say it'll be huge for us?"

"I think it's a big step. I think you letting me do something like that will make us a lot closer. I think maybe it'll mean you trust me a lot more, especially after you realize that I'm not going anywhere and that I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know you're not going to hurt me, by leaving or otherwise," he says quietly. "And I do trust you. I'm ready now. We can do it."

I shake my head and kiss his neck. "You're not ready, baby, not even close." He tries to argue that fact, but I cut him off, "I know you think you're ready, and maybe you are emotionally, which means a lot to me. I'm glad you're willing and that you do love me and trust me enough to want to be with me that way, but you are  _not_ even close to being ready physically. Baby, you can barely even take one fingertip."

His shoulders get tight, and he slowly hunches forward onto his elbows, and I think he's feeling insecure now. "Don't feel bad, we were all butt virgins at one point." I kind of hope that he'll laugh, but he doesn't. I lean forward over the top of him, though I don't resume our grinding as I kiss over his back. "I'm not trying to put you down, I can imagine how uncomfortable it is for you and I think you're doing really well. I just need you to understand that you're not ready for me, we still have a long ways to go before I can even try."

"So push me, ignore it when I get nervous."

I sigh. "Edward, I can't fucking push you on this. If you get nervous, you get even fucking tighter and that doesn't work when my whole purpose is  _not_ hurting you. We'll just have to be patient."

"Maybe we can do it from this position better, maybe I won't get nervous if I can't see you looking all freaked out."

"I look freaked out?" I ask disbelievingly.

"You always fucking look scared when you're down there."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I guess I didn't realize... I just get afraid that maybe you don't really want me doing stuff down there, I didn't think that I let it show. We can do it like this," I tell him, kissing across his tattoo. He grabs the bottle of lube and hands it back to me. "Right now?" I mumble into his skin.

"Yes. Right now."

"Can't we do it later?" I practically beg, frowning down at the sight of my still really hard cock.

"Why not now?" He asks.

"Because, I mean..." Fuck.

"If you don't want to fucking do it, just say so," he says, tossing the bottle aside and moving out from under me.

Shit. "Edward, I didn't say I don't want to. I want to, but fuck..."

"What?" he snaps, obviously angry now.

I stare down at the bed and mutter, "I'm just really fucking horny right now, okay? I have absolutely no fucking patience at the moment, I just need to fucking cum."

He sighs and turns to face me, moving across the bed toward me on his knees. He shoves me hard, making me fall back into the pillows. I lie there completely still as he climbs over the top of me, straddling my hips.

"You couldn't just fucking say that in the first place? We can talk about fingering my ass but you can't tell me you're too horny to think straight? You can't admit that your balls are fucking blue? Or are you just too fucking proud to ask for my help? Do you want my help?"

I nod and he demands that I say it out loud. "Yes, please, I want you to touch me," I practically beg. "I need you."

"That's more fucking like it. Was that so fucking hard to admit? Can the underwear fucking go?" he asks rather forcefully.

"Yes."

He immediately rids me of my only article of clothing, then climbs back up towards me, stopping when his mouth is level with my cock. Oh, fucking Christ. "Wait, wait!" I gasp when I feel his breath on my cock.

He groans, but stops, if only to roll his eyes at me. "What?"

"I don't want you to do it if you're angry," I say stupidly. I don't know why I'm fucking talking. I could be getting my dick sucked, and here I am telling him not to. Kill me now. But damn it, he looks pissed off and I don't want him to regret sucking my cock.

"I'm not fucking angry," he mumbles. "Annoyed, yes, because you're being the world's biggest fucking cock-block ever, when you  _promised_  to stop doing that shit, but I'm not mad."

"Well, fine, but I don't want you to think that you have to do it."

"Fucking a, Jasper, I know I don't have to suck your cock, okay? Are you finished?"

"No. Speaking of finishing, I'm probably not going to last. I'm really fucking horny and, fuck, Edward, it's your mouth."

"Okay, now are you done?"

"I guess."

"Good, now shut the fuck up."

I do that, because my little head suddenly takes over the thinking department and the only thought I'm capable of at all is,  _Holy shit, Edward Cullen is going to suck my cock_.

He moves hesitantly at first, I'm assuming because he has no idea where to start, but he gets this determined look on his face and wraps his lips around the head of my cock, swiping his tongue over the tip. He pulls off and swallows, and I attempt to keep my urge to whimper and beg him to continue at bay, at least for now. I know he's just taste-testing me right now, getting used to it, but fuck, it already feels like he's teasing me. The two seconds that my cock was in his mouth were fucking amazing.

He either decides that my cock tastes okay or that he has to learn to deal with it, because I blink and his lips are around me again.

 _Patience, patience, patience_ , I try to remember. But it's fucking difficult. Somehow, all the years I'd spent being completely still and being patient while the straight boys figured out how to work a cock are forgotten. I want to thrust up and push more into his mouth, I want to feel his fucking tongue, and Christ, I want to cum. It's Edward, and everything is more intense than I ever remember it being, and the fact that my cock is in his mouth is making the simple process of thinking—with my  _brain_ , not my balls—more difficult than it's ever been.

I can't move, I know I can't, so I force myself not to, and slowly he gets more confident and takes more of my cock in. I want to play with his hair, but I don't trust myself enough so I stuff my hands under my thighs and grip the bed sheet.

As he get comfortable with my cock in his mouth, he starts to suck and use his tongue, and that's when shit really get's real.

My fucking cock is in Edward Cullen's mouth!

"Oh, my fuck, Edward," I moan.

I feel his lips stretch into a smirk and he takes me a little deeper, but then he gags. I try not to react at all, because I don't want him to get discouraged just because he gagged. He pulls off of me with a small pop and he swallows and takes a deep breath. He licks his lips and peeks up at me shyly before going back down for more. He fucking tries to take me deeper than he can handle again though and gags. And he does it a-fucking-gain and a-fucking-gain, until finally he has to pull off and take a couple of deep breaths.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, and my stomach fucking clenches because I can hear the fucking disappointment and embarrassment in his voice. I can see it in the way he refuses to look at me.

Yet, he goes back to fucking try again and he can't fucking settle for doing what he can handle, he just has to make himself gag. He's too fucking stubborn to give up, I can't fucking continue to lie here while he tortures himself.

"Stop," I groan, gripping his head in my hands, pushing him off of me.

"I can fucking do it," he grumbles, his eyes and jaw tight.

"No," I say.

"Yes," he demands.

"No. Now get the fuck up here and lie down."

"No," Edward says defiantly, but I'm not having any of that shit.

"Yes. Now," I command.

He doesn't look happy about it, but he obeys and lies back with his head on a pillow. I situate myself over the top of him and kiss him, even though he doesn't look like he wants to be fucking kissed right now. He looks pissed and upset and fucking defeated, but I'm going to try to fix that. His face is red and his lips are tight and he doesn't really kiss me back. Even after I tell him I love him he refuses to look at me or kiss me, and he doesn't say it back which kind of hurts. But he's insecure and out of his comfort zone, so I let it go.

I'm not done getting my cock sucked—obviously—but fuck, I just  _can't_ watch him gag anymore. It's not that it bothers me that he is gagging, it's that he thinks he has to fucking take my whole cock when we both know he isn't going to be able to do it yet. Or I know that, maybe he's under the impression that deep-throating is super simple. Even I fucking had trouble taking cock into my throat and I never had a bad fucking gag reflex.

I don't know that I really make a conscious decision to change our position, because if I think with my big head, I know it's probably not the best idea to do what I'm about to do, but I really need to get off and I don't want him thinking that he can't do this.

I sit up, and move forward so I'm straddling his chest. "Look at me," I urge. He doesn't. "Baby, please," I beg.

His previously tight bottom lip kind of pushes out into a little pout and he slowly looks up at me, then down at my cock in his face. I scoot forward a little more and cradle his head in my hands. "Lift your head a little more," I instruct and he does. I stuff another pillow in behind his head and he rests back into it, staring up at me all innocent-like. And those fucking glasses. So. Fucking.  _Hot_. "You okay like this?" I ask.

He nods and I grasp my cock in one hand, keeping the other on the side of his face. I lean forward and tell him, "Open."

He does and I slowly slide my cock into his mouth. I keep my hand wrapped around my shaft so he can only take so much, but when I'm in his mouth as much as my hand allows, he grabs my ass and urges me forward more. Slowly, carefully, I slide my hand back letting him take more of me. A quarter of an inch, half an inch, three quarters, and then another inch is in his mouth and he's doing okay. I don't dare let him take anymore than that, but he's still trying to urge me forward. Unwisely, I try just a little bit more and he gags.

I pull out of his mouth quickly and let him have a minute.

"I fucking told you I wouldn't be good at this," he grumbles quietly, avoiding looking at me again.

I rub his cheek and drag my thumb over his plump lower lip, then slide my hand around to the back of his neck and toy with his hair as I re-situate myself. "You're doing fine, baby, you just need to stop trying to take more than you can handle. You know you have a bad gag reflex, so stop pushing it. I fucking told you deep-throating is overrated, and it sure as hell isn't something you're going to be able to do on your first try so just give it a rest for now. Are you doing okay? Are you ready to try again?"

"I'm fine," he says firmly, keeping his eyes closed. I wait until he opens them and looks up at me. "I'm fine," he repeats, much more gently. "Let me try again."

"Okay."

I slowly slide back into his opened mouth and I use my hand as a mark, only letting him take so much. He doesn't push himself or me for more and for that I'm really fucking grateful. Carefully, I find a rhythm that works for him and start to gently thrust into his mouth. He stares up at me the whole fucking time and it's so fucking hot, I can barely stand it.

"Use your tongue, baby," I instruct quietly and he does, making me moan and pick up my pace a little bit. "How's that? Is that okay?" I ask hurriedly.

He nods slightly, and I continue sliding my cock between his lips. I pull out as his lips start to get dry and he quickly licks them and urges me forward with his hands. He keeps his palms on my ass and starts to guide me a little faster as he flicks his tongue against my cock, licking and tasting me.

"Are you okay?" I ask again, and he nods. "I'm getting close, but I'll pull out," I promise.

His eyes darken and his cheeks hollow a little as he sucks. He surprises me completely when he pushes his fingers between my cheeks and teases my entrance.

"Fuck, fuck," I gasp, trying to fight off the sudden urge to jerk on the part of my cock he can't reach.

He maneuvers his hand so his thumb is massaging my hole and his other fingers start to rub my balls. I say a few more curse words in the heat of the moment and I know I'm really fucking close, but I don't want to finish yet. I want to keep my cock in his mouth forever. My hips start to jerk and I hit the roof of his mouth rather roughly and his teeth once as well—which makes me hiss and Edward wince. It didn't really hurt too bad though, thankfully.

I'm so close,  _so_  fucking  _close_ , and I have to pull out. I do it just barely in time, and I think I may have cum on his lips a little bit before aiming the rest down at his chest. I'm fucking out of it and it feels so fucking good and I'm jerking off onto his chest. Fuck me, he just sucked my cock and I fucked his face, if only just a little bit.

Tiredly, I start to search for some tissues to clean Edward's chest off. "Your tissue box is empty," he says.

"Who the fuck used up all of my cleanup tissues?" I grumble, beginning my search for my underwear to use to clean him up.

"Probably you," he replies laughingly.

I locate my underwear near the end of the bed and groan when I have to stretch that far. "Shut up," I tell him halfheartedly.

Lazily, I clean him up, then fall forward onto him and kiss him. I pull back and look down at his lips when I taste cum. "Shit, I did cum on your lips a little bit," I realize.

"Yeah, it's okay, it really doesn't taste too bad."

Fuck. He tasted my cum. I might whimper because I think that's pretty fucking hot. There's still a little tiny bit of cum near his upper lip and I lean in and lick it off. He leans up and kisses me, sliding his tongue over mine and I groan, shoving my tongue into his mouth.

This totally counts as snowblowing, I've never fucking snowblown with anyone before and it's insanely sexy that's he licking my cum off of my tongue right now.

I pull back to ask him, "Do you know what snowblowing is?" I'm kind of hoping he does.

Of course that's not the case. "I'm assuming you're not talking about the machine that shoots snow."

"No," I laugh.

"Then no, baby, I don't know what snowblowing is."

"Have you watched any porn at all?" I wonder, shaking my head incredulously.

"Not really. I can't ever seem to find anything decent, most of the shit I find is just fake and stupid, and frankly doesn't turn me on at all, so I just quit trying. I have a pretty vivid imagination..."

"I have a really good porno, we'll have to watch it together sometime."

"Alright. Are you going to tell me what 'snowblowing' is?"

"Oh, yeah. Basically it's just when you cum in someone's mouth and then kind of pass it around to another person, you know? Like what we just did, only there is usually more cum involved. I'd never done that before, it was kind of hot."

"We can do it again sometime, as long as it's your cum."

"Why? Are you that weirded out by your own cum?"

"Yes."

I laugh and kiss him. "Your cum is fine. I need to go get a towel. Get naked while I'm gone."

"Why do you need a towel?" he calls after me.

"Because if we're doing what we planned on doing, I don't want cum and lube all over my comforter," I explain, grabbing a towel and dampening a corner to clean up his chest a little better. "How is this going to work anyway?" I ask.

"The butt fingering? Don't ask me, that's your fucking deal. I've never fingered anyone's ass before," he replies snarkily.

He's standing next to my bed completely naked when I return with the towel and I'm incredibly tempted to just drop to my knees to suck him off and forget about everything else. You'd think my one-track-mind would look slightly further ahead and realize that the 'butt fingering' is for a good cause, but I'm apparently a cum fiend, all I want to do is suck his cock. His cock is incredibly nice though, and I really love sucking him.

"Jasper, sweetie, it's not polite to stare."

I roll my eyes and walk over to him. "What I meant was who's going to play with your lovely cock while I'm hanging out back? I could reach around if you want me to, but I'm probably not going to be very attentive when your ass is in my face."

"Well, baby, I've been masturbating for about ten years, so I think I'm capable of playing with myself by now."

"Are you sure? I can do it for you. I totally don't mind playing with your cock at all," I say jokingly, giving him an innocent look while I wipe his sticky chest off.

I jump when his hand unexpectedly connects with my ass in a resounding slap. I whimper and stare at him, half-convinced that I should start begging Professor Cullen to spank me like the naughty boy I am. It's the fucking glasses, I swear they have magical powers. I'm pretty sure they hold the secret to world peace.

"You should see your face," Edward laughs. "You fucking perv, you like being smacked." He grabs the towel from my hands and places it on the bed, climbing on top of it. "Come on, let's do this. Is this where you want me?"

I really want to beg him to trade places with me, but this is for the greater good. The greater good of my cock.

"Come back closer to the edge," I say, grabbing the bottle of lube. He does as I ask and I pop the top on the bottle of lubrication. "Open your hand."

"Which one?"

I snort and shake my head. "The one you plan on using to jerk off with."

"Oh, um..." He looks between his two hands then decides to reach out with his right hand for me to give him some lube to play with himself.

"Alright, baby, lean forward and relax."

He takes a deep breath and rests on his left forearm, reaching back with his lubed hand to start jerking off. It's really fucking hot watching him do that, especially with his ass right there. Great fucking angle...

"Jasper?"

"Oh, right." I laugh and take a step forward, settling in behind him. Without warning him first, I squeeze a big drop of cool lubricant right onto his entrance and watch him tighten.

"Fuck," he hisses. "Couldn't you fucking put it on your fingers first? That's fucking cold!" I smirk, but he can't see it, I don't think he can anyway. "Christ, you are a fucking perv," he groans.

"You're the one asking me to finger your ass," I snark jokingly.

"You've got me there," he replies.

I'm glad we can joke about this, and I'm  _really_ glad we can joke about this while his bare ass is in the air. He's definitely come a long way.

"Okay, baby, I'm just going to start like I usually do," I warn, sliding my hands up the back of his thighs.

"Alright," he replies quietly.

I gently run my hands up and down his thighs for a couple moments, letting him relax. I can't resist massaging his muscular butt a little while I'm at it and I can hear his hand slowly and wetly sliding over the flesh of his cock. God, this is so fucking hot.

"Alright, baby?"

"Yeah," he breathes lazily.

I carefully dip the tip of my index finger into the lube on his tight hole and though he works to fight off his reaction, I still see the way he tightens, from his shoulders to his toes. I don't back off, I trust him to tell me to stop if it gets to be too much. I slowly start to rub small circles around his hole and he quickly relaxes, knowing the routine by now. When I feel he's relaxed enough, I press my finger inside of him as much as he'll allow.

As always, it's not much at first. It's a repeating pattern. Rub, relax, in, tighten, ease out, rub, relax, in, tighten, so on, so forth. After about ten minutes of the same, ineffective pattern, I can tell he's starting to get frustrated. This is the point where he usually says that it just feels weird and that he can't relax and I just give up and get him off by other means.

"Talk to me," he pleads this time, not commenting at all on the level of weirdness.

"It's not only virgins who need to be fingered before sex, you know," I explain quietly, going with my current train of thought, which just happens to be myself getting fingered and fucked—sexed? Loved? Boned? Whatever. "Fingering first really helps to relax and lubricate. It's extremely important that you are both properly relaxed and lubricated before having intercourse. It really fucking hurts when you try to force it and you don't have enough lube. Even with me you'll have to work to relax me, to stretch and loosen me up. You can only tell the muscles to relax so much, the rest has to be done manually. It's not self-lubricating back there like a vagina either, so lots of lube is important."

I can hardly fucking believe my own eyes. My finger is second knuckle deep in his ass. It's the farthest he's ever let me get and he hasn't said anything about it feeling weird.

"Keep talking, it helps," he mumbles.

"I'm a firm believer in always using a condom. I carry condoms and individual packets of lubricant with me wherever I go. You have to remember though, baby, once we get to the point where we are having sex, that just because we've done it before doesn't mean you can shove it all in and be good to ram me hard and fast. It takes time, and I know sometimes you just want to do it hard and dirty, but it always has to start slow. That doesn't mean we can't do it hard and dirty, because I'm all for getting plowed by you, just remember to prep me first and take it slow in the beginning. You have a pretty big cock, so it's definitely going to take me some time to get used to you."

Holy fuck! I'm finger fucking his ass. Like seriously, there is finger thrusting. Albeit very slow finger thrusting, but it counts! Oh my God, this is awesome.

"Considering the amount of time it's been since the last time I was fucked," I continue, "you're really going to have to take your time with me. The first time might have to be pretty slow. You're definitely going to have to work me with your fingers for a while first, then give me some time to get used to your cock. The last guy I was with, that bastard who tracked you down, had a tiny penis—"

"Don't fucking tell me about the guys who fucked you," Edward cuts me off.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking," I apologize, immediately stopping my finger movement because I can feel him tightening up. Nothing like saying the wrong thing, fuck. That was stupid.

"Am I the biggest?" he asks.

"You just said..." I trail off, wondering why the fuck he's asking when he just said not to tell him.

"I know, but I fucking asked," he replies.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes, tell me."

I sigh and reach down with the hand that isn't currently otherwise occupied to caress his balls. "No, baby, you aren't the biggest." I'm definitely not stupid enough to tell him there are a few that were bigger and some that were close to the same size. I'm also not stupid enough to tell him that most were smaller.

"Did you ever have really, really bad sex with anyone?"

"Edward, why are you asking this shit when you said you didn't want to fucking know?"

"I just want some reassurance that I won't be the worst you've ever had."

After he says that, I want to hug him and punch him at the same fucking time. "First off, I wish you'd fucking stop with the self-degradation. Sex with you is going to be the best I've ever had, and don't you fucking doubt or question that. Secondly, I've repressed the worst sex I ever had and I'd appreciate if it was never brought up again."

"That bad?" he asks.

"You have  _no_  idea," I mutter.

"Try a second finger," he whispers.

I was able to restart my movement without even having to pull all the way out. He was able to relax on his own enough for me to continue, and though that was a great improvement, I'm not sure he's ready for a second finger.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Yes, just keep talking."

I do just that, adding lube to my middle finger. I switch fingers for a couple of passes, working my middle finger into him instead of my index and then carefully, optimistically, I try with both fingers.

I'm talking up a fucking storm, my excitement probably prevailing as I am able to work two fingers into him up to the first knuckle.

But then he clenches, hard.

Momentarily I think that we're probably done for tonight and we'll try again later.

We're not done though as he fucking moans. Oh God, he moans. It's guttural and I nearly fucking jizz myself because that is a fucking  _moan_. He fucking likes it. There is no hiding that fact by the sound he just made.

He relaxes and I cautiously press deeper into him. He grunts and his back arches, and I'm fucking aching at the sight of him, the  _sound_ of him. His hand is moving quicker on his hard cock while the other hand is fisted into my comforter.

I bury my two fingers to the hilt in his ass and he groans loudly. "Oh, fuck, Jasper."

I just do what instincts tell me to and try to push my fingers into him further, though I know they can't go anymore. He moans and shifts his hips, making my fingers move in him slightly.

That's when I realize that I'm not talking anymore and I haven't been for quite a while and he's still relaxed. I gently try pulling my fingers out a little and pushing them back in and he moans and grinds his ass back into my hand.

Jesus fucking Christ, that is hot.

I twist my fingers inside of him and he curses and arches his back and then my fingers are pointed down at his belly and I'm praying to God my long fingers are  _long enough_ to reach his prostate gland. I nearly shout Hallelujah when I feel the distinct, recognizable shape of his prostate under my touch, and I think he nearly does the same. His arm gives out and he falls into my blanket with a moan.

I softly circle over the 'Hello Jesus' spot with my fingertips and Edward's muffled groans are continuous from that point on. I'm tempted to start humping his foot in my own need to get off from the fucking sight before me.

I dare to spread my fingers slightly, creating more—hopefully—pleasurable pressure for him. The hand he had previously been using to hold himself up grabs my wrist and he turns his face out of the comforter, panting and moaning loudly into the air.

"Jasper. Oh, fuck. Jasper," he cries.

I can feel his testicles pulling up toward his body and I move my hand to my own cock, desperate from some friction. I widen my fingers a little more and his ass clenches tight, so tight I'm worried that maybe I've pressed too much, but he's still moaning like mad and I think that he's just that close to cumming. Really fucking cumming.

He releases my wrist, opting instead to grasp his own ass cheek and he starts to call my name repeatedly. Then his previously slightly curled toes turn white with the force of which they are curling and he gives one final loud, guttural grunt that is the be-all and end-all of sex sounds before the pulsating starts.

I think I'm going to lose my fucking mind when his ass starts to throb around my fingers. I try to replicate the motion with my hand on my cock, and of course I know that it's nothing at all like the feeling of his wrapped tightly around me. And still, the sight of him grabbing his ass cheek while my fingers are buried deep inside of him and he jerks himself off, cumming all over the fucking place, is fucking killing me. The sound, fuck, the neighbors have to hear him calling my name.

I can't even fucking handle it. I blow my load all over him and my hand. I can't fucking believe that I've jerked off and cum on him twice in the last fucking hour, but it feels too good and too right, or maybe I just don't fucking care. He probably doesn't even fucking know I'm having an orgasm with him, he's lost in the fucking twilight zone.

I'm pretty fucking proud of myself. Not for jerking off all over him, again, I'm actually kind of ashamed that I can't seem to control myself at all. I'm fucking proud that I gave him that orgasm, though. I'm also insanely proud of him for letting me.

With deliberate movement, I extract my fingers from his body and he shudders and quivers all the while, practically mewling. He looks exhausted, hunched forward into the bed, shaking and panting.

Yeah, I did that.

I quickly fetch a warm washcloth from the bathroom, and I work to clean him up. He collapses onto his back and I wipe his hand and front side off before collecting the jizzed up towel to be washed. I climb into bed next to him and we spend the next hour just lying there holding each other and cuddling.

He tells me he loves me about every five minutes and his glasses are still on. He looks insanely adorable with the glasses, sex hair, and swollen red lips.

"I'm so gay," he laughs suddenly. I stare at him suspiciously and he continues to laugh. With a burst of renewed energy he rolls on top of me, playfully pinching my ass. "Let's do that again," he growls.

That's when I realize that I've just created a fucking monster. Literally.


	13. Chapter 13

If I was a cum fiend, then Edward was a butt fingering fiend. I swear he just started sticking his fingers up my ass so I would return the favor. Christ, he couldn't get enough. I was using muscles in my hands that I never even knew existed and my fingers are too sore to even draw these days. There isn't a blowjob he gets that isn't accompanied by some form of ass play.

I'm able to fit three fingers in him now, and Christ, does he get horny and loud when I'm three fingers deep in his ass. You can't even imagine what it does to me when he's beside himself begging me to give him my cock and telling me how full he feels.

I'm not going to be able to listen to that shit much longer before I give in. My only concern is that he's still not as ready as he says he is. Even though he's been fingering me nearly as much as I've been doing him, he still has made no move whatsoever to actually 'make love' with me—to me. I don't know if he thinks that maybe I'm not ready or what, but I'm starting to get a little agitated. I'm ready to just buy a goddamn dildo and make love to myself. I'm craving the cock extra bad these days and every time he finger fucks me, it just gets that much worse.

He's definitely not bad at the finger-fucking thing either. His fingers are fucking  _long_ and extra fucking dexterous. To want more than his very nimble fingers is a true testament to how badly I need his cock. I fucking  _need_  it.

I'm so not willing to push him, though, so I don't say a damn thing while he fingers me and sucks me off. He's grown much better at the whole blowjob thing as well. He's learned how fucking serious I was when I told him that deep-throating is overrated. There's no more relentless gagging, though he still does gag a little on occasion. Maybe it's just me, but I think it's kind of cute. He gets so embarrassed when he gags, and we all fucking know how I love it when he blushes. You can imagine how much I love it when he blushes with my cock in his mouth.

Unf.

I just don't fucking get why he isn't moving any further. Is he afraid of putting his cock in my love tunnel? He sure as hell isn't worried about putting his fingers in there. I'm terrified that he still thinks I might leave after he does it, but I have no idea how to reassure him anymore. The simple truth is that I can't fucking leave him. He's as significant to me as my heart, there's no way in hell I can be without him. I tell him how much I love him all the fucking time, but I don't know, maybe he still doesn't trust me enough.

I understand why he has trust issues. His father is a real fucking piece of work. Edward has certainly opened up to me in more ways than one recently. The more I learn about his home life, the more I understand why exactly he is the way he is. Part of it is just personality, true, but the distrust, the fear, those are all products of his fucked up family.

He played the piano for me again and let me sit on his bench next to him while he played and told me the story of how he learned and why he didn't play much anymore. I had assumed that maybe it was because music was the career choice he had wanted for himself, while everyone else had pushed him to be a lawyer, but that wasn't even the half of it.

His mother taught him to play piano and encouraged him through the early part of his life to do whatever made him happy. It was clear that even now music is what made him happy. But when Edward turned thirteen—just thirteen fucking years old—he'd been ripped away from his mother, never to see her again.

When I asked him what happened to her, his exact words were: "Baby, what do very rich men do with people they want out of their life?"

He found it hilarious when I freaked out, hugging him and apologizing, nearly in tears for the hurt he had gone through because of his prick father. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why the fuck he was laughing. No one laughs about their mother's death.

He explained that his father paid her off, not murdered her. He said she sometimes sent him letters and shit, but they were always through buffers and he didn't have a clue where she actually lived. He didn't know why it was that his father was so adamant about the fact that he never see his mother again, but he assumed it was pride, or some other fucking selfish feeling the arrogant bastard had that would make him believe it was okay to take a thirteen-year-old boy away from his mother.

He told me that Esme basically raised him, which really made sense considering how maternal and caring she seemed, especially for him. Carlisle worked a lot, and though he was away more than at home, he still managed to spend more time fathering Edward than Ed Senior did. As much as Esme nurtured Edward, shit still wasn't okay for him. His father was a fucking prick. His wicked, evil step mother was also a fucking prick. In my opinion, Carlisle turned out fucking stellar considering who his parents were.

Basically, Edward got the short end of the family stick. It really makes me fucking happy that I grew up with two stable parents who accepted me for who I was, despite having their beliefs. I would much rather have grown up in poverty with two loving parents than have had all the money in the world and such fucked up individuals as parents. Thank God for Esme.

I told him a little about my family. About being an only child, and my parents, and growing up poor. I told him that they know I'm gay and that they are very supportive for the most part. We mostly don't talk about it a lot, because they are slightly religious and I try to keep our lives separate so they won't have to feel uncomfortable. I tell him about being raised in Texas, I even tell him a little more about Peter because he was such a huge part of my life. Needless to say, Edward is  _not_  a Peter fan.

Sometimes we just start talking to each other and the hours fly by. We tend to get lost in the little world we created for ourselves and we talk until we're tired. It still nearly brings me to the point of tears to realize that I have someone now. Someone who loves me and whom I love back, regardless of wealth, fucked up family, or any other baggage he has. He's the person I feel I can share anything with and know he won't judge me. I've never had that before. Emmett probably could have been that person, but I never wanted him to be, which made all the world of difference. I wanted Edward, he's my person, my soul, my whole fucking life. I'd do anything for him.

–

"Oh, come the fuck on," Emmett curses at my TV, waving a bottle of beer around.

Game's on. I guess I'm socializing. I don't really know, Emmett just came over and insisted that we watch the game. Edward's at work and I'm fidgeting because I know he's going to be calling soon. Emmett and I don't really spend time alone together anymore, this is the first time since Edward and I have made it solidly official that we're a couple. I don't want him to freak out, but I think maybe he can handle this. I hope.

I take my phone with me into the kitchen when it starts to ring. I take a deep breath before answering. "Hey, baby," I greet.

"Hey, love. Can I come over?"

I smile, swirling a puddle of soda can sweat around the counter with my finger. "Of course, baby, you know you don't have to ask."

"I know," he sighs. "I've had a really shitty day, I just need you right now. Is that okay?"

"Of course, Edward, but—"

"Mm, be naked for me? I fucking want you so bad right now. All I could think about all day was having you in my mouth, being with you in bed, watching you cum for me," he murmurs.

My face heats and I immediately begin to harden. "Edward," I start to say, my voice definitely more husky than it was a second ago.

I pause and he urges, "Yeah, baby?"

"Yes! Yes! Come on, harder! Yes!" Emmett screams from my living room.

All the air in my lungs whooshes out of me in one stolen breath and our moment is gone, ruined. I close my eyes and wait for it, whatever it is that's coming. There is silence on Edward's end of the phone, except his breathing, which I can hear blowing rather harshly through his nose.

"Was that Emmett?" he asks finally. I can hear the control in his voice, he's forcing himself to be calm. We both know he wants to yell right now, but I commend him for trying to be okay.

"Yes. He wanted to come over to watch the game. I thought it would be okay, but I guess I should have told him no," I say. Had I known that Edward was already having a bad day, I would have told Emmett to wait for another time, but he had seemed fine earlier when I talked to him. Something must have happened...

"I'll be there in a few," Edward replies before the line goes dead.

My stomach is in knots while I stand there, trying to decide what to do. The game isn't even close to being over and trying to convince Emmett to leave now would be like trying to convince a grizzly that you are not his dinner. Pointless and only asking to be attacked by something much larger than yourself.

I guess I will have to take the brunt of this. Emmett is not going to leave and Edward obviously is not going to be happy about him being here, and of course that's my fucking fault.

I don't know how to deal with his jealousy. It's not that he doesn't trust me, because I do think he trusts me, some at least, but I think when presented with a situation like this, he lets the jealousy take over. I don't think he knows how to not be jealous, and I don't know how to fucking handle it.

Relationships are so fucking hard. But I'll do anything to keep my relationship with Edward, even if that means taking his anger calmly when it's not my fucking fault. I'll do what I have to do.

I'm lost with worry and anxiety when I go back to the living room. I don't even see the television or Emmett while I'm sitting on the couch waiting for him, I'm so fucking nervous that I just blankly stare out the window.

"He has to get over it, Jasper," Emmett says knowingly, obviously catching on to my anxiety.

"I know," I hear myself answer, tucking my knees up into my chest. "He had a bad day though and now this..."

"Oh, come on, Jazz, he's always going to have some excuse for why you can't spend time with me. You can't let him pull this shit every time. Have a backbone, don't let him walk all over you."

"I don't want to fight," I mutter.

"So don't. Tell him you love  _him_ , he has nothing to worry about. He fucking knows that, just keep reminding him and he'll get over this eventually."

"You could be a little less fucking abrasive toward him. Did you really have to fucking say 'yes, harder'? I think you  _try_  to get me in trouble."

Emmett shrugs. "He has to get over it," he says simply. "Stop being such a pussy now or fucking risk exploding on him in the future." He smirks. "And not in the good way. Is this really how you want to spend your whole life with him? Do you think this is healthy, you being that nervous because you're afraid of him?"

"I'm not afraid of him, I'm afraid of losing him, Em, fuck. And no, I don't necessarily like it that I have to feel this way, but what am I supposed to do? I have given him no reason to be upset with me or to be jealous, but that doesn't seem to matter."

"Stop sitting there like an abused little bitch and stand up for yourself."

I take a deep breath and sigh, un-tucking from my previously submissive ball of angst. I don't plan on being confrontational with Edward, but Emmett is right, Edward really needs to get past this. He needs to learn to trust me with another man. I'm not a cheater and I never have been, despite my questionable past.

I'm still nervous, but I at least try to hide it now. He would have eaten me alive if he found me sitting there all guilty-like. Damn Emmett, he's right again. I have nothing to be worried about, I haven't done anything wrong. Except maybe ruin the love of my life's day, which makes me sad and anxious, because I don't like it when he's upset.

"Shit," I gasp suddenly. "Emmett, go move your car. Now."

"No," he says firmly, not moving his eyes off the TV.

"Yes, fucking now or get the fuck out and don't come back."

"Fuck you, I'm watching the game. He can park on the street."

I stand up and loom over Emmett, really fucking angry. "My boyfriend is  _not_ parking on the street. That is his motherfucking parking spot. Go move your fucking hunk of junk onto the street or so help me God, I'm going to fucking rip your nuts off and make you watch me feed them to your boyfriend."

"Jesus," he mutters. "Fine. Christ." He stands and starts to make his way down the hall. "You're such a bitch," I hear him mumble.

"Excuse me?" I ask.

"Nothing," he replies quickly, scooting forward faster.

I feel pretty badass. I scared Emmett. Haha.

He moves his car out onto the street and just as he makes it back inside and to the couch, Edward pulls in. I'm feeling much better now that he has his parking spot. Emmett taking his parking spot is not cool, especially considering Edward's unreasonable attachment to his car.

I don't know what to do. Should I go greet him at the door, tell him how much I've fucking missed him all day—because I really have—or will that be overkill and make him think I'm sucking up? Is waiting on the couch for him to come to me too undermining though?

Fuck my life, I hate how complicated this all is.

By the time I hear Edward open the front door, it's obviously too late to meet him there, so on a whim I jump up and head for the kitchen, grabbing two beers from the fridge. His hand is shoved in his hair when he walks past the doorway from the hall to the kitchen and though he doesn't notice me, I can see the tension and nerves in him, and it breaks my fucking heart. I just want him to trust me, to be confident that I wouldn't ever fucking leave him. I peer around the corner of the doorway and watch him as he stands there with his head tilted back and his hand rubbing over his face. After a moment, he rolls his neck and tries to fix his hair and shirt and my stomach clenches into knots again because he's trying to hide the fact that he's freaking out.

He walks into the living room and I head back out of the kitchen the way I came in. "Where's Jasper?" I hear Edward ask Emmett.

Emmett doesn't answer. He zones out sometimes while watching TV, though—he doesn't even hear you when he's 'in the zone.' "I'm right here, baby," I say, sliding up behind him to kiss the back of his neck while I reach around his side to hand him his beer. "Brought you a beer."

He takes the beer and turns around, keeping himself close to me. "Thank you," he says, slipping his hand around my neck to pull my mouth to his.

The kiss is tentative, I think both of us are a little unsure of each other right now. I sigh, because he's kissing me and that's a good sign and he takes advantage of my parted lips by darting his tongue inside. I am just barely able to respond by flicking my tongue against his before he pulls away.

He tilts his head down and I watch rather greedily as he licks his lips— _I_ want to lick his lips for him. He then bites his bottom lip and his cheeks turn a little pink and I realize that he's looking up at me through his eyelashes.

I force myself to fall back into the couch before I can do something naughty. And I will do something naughty if he looks at me like that again. That shit fucking  _kills_ me.

He sits down next to me, hesitantly moving closer. When I wrap my arm over his shoulder, he slides in as close as he can get, snuggling right into my side.

"Missed you," he murmurs, nuzzling my neck.

Fuck. Me. "I missed you too, baby," I reply, taking a sip of my beer, then setting it onto the coffee table.

He follows suit, taking a drink before setting his bottle down. When he leans back into me, his mouth is on my neck, kissing and licking,  _right there_ , where I can hardly stand it, it feels so good. My eyes roll back into my head and I fight back a moan.

"You taste..." He moves up towards my ear, licking and nibbling along, making me shiver. "...so good."

He shifts his body slightly, pushing his hips forward, against me, and I feel him hard against my hip. He feels  _really_ fucking hard. I'm not expecting that so I turn my head to look at him a little incredulously.

"All day," he whispers, leaning in to kiss me.

Oh, fuck. He's been horny all goddamn day. My poor boy.

I slide my hand down onto his back and urge him closer to me. He climbs into my lap, straddling me, and I squeeze his ass and pulling him against me while he leans in, kissing me like his life fucking depends on it. His cock is so fucking hard against my stomach, I push him into me, creating friction for him and he moans, pushing harder. I need to get him out of these pants.

"Okay, seriously, I'm still here," Emmett grumbles.

Fuck. Emmett. How is it even possible that I completely forgot he was sitting there?

Edward growls quietly and pulls his mouth away from my now unmoving one.

"If I wanted to watch porn, I wouldn't have the game on, boys. Get a room or stop distracting me."

"Go home to watch the fucking game," Edward snaps at him.

"The game has already started," Emmett yells back at him, looking astonished that Edward would suggest such a thing.

Edward grinds his teeth, then leans in close to my ear, moaning just loud enough for me to hear as he rubs his dick on my stomach.

Jesus motherfucking Christ, help me.

"Can we please go into your room?" he begs.

I nod and he stands almost instantaneously, pulling me up off the couch after him, then practically drags me to my bedroom.

He pushes me inside first then turns around to shut the double doors. He pauses and I watch confusedly as he takes a moment to stare out at Emmett before finally shutting the doors. Everything had been rush, rush, rush, but he sure took his time there.

He's smirking when he turns around, which only makes me more suspicious. He steps toward me and I take a step back, trying to figure out what his little hidden agenda is. He cocks his head to the side and steps toward me again, but I move away again.

"What the fuck was that?" I ask, putting my hand out to stop him as he tries to reach forward and grab me while he takes a step forward.

"What?" he asks innocently.

 _Oh, no, he did not just fucking do what I think he did_. "You fucking asshole, did you just bring me in here so you could mark me as yours?"

His mouth opens and he flounders momentarily and I think he's thinking about denying it. I raise my eyebrows and he huffs. "Baby, I need you," he pleads, reaching out to grab onto me.

I twist away from him. "I can't fucking believe how stupid I am. Fuck, Edward, what's next? Are you going to ask me to tattoo 'Edward's Bitch' across my forehead?"

"No, baby, of course not," he proclaims. I almost soften a little, but he decides to follow up with, "That would ruin your pretty face."

"Fuck you," I hiss, shoving him away from me.

He stumbles back dazedly. "Baby, it was a joke," he tries.

It doesn't go over well. "Oh, I was supposed to laugh at that? I'm so glad you think this is funny."

"I don't, baby, I promise. Come on, let's just snuggle on your bed and watch a movie."

I do laugh at that. Now  _that_ was a good joke. I bet he wants to 'snuggle', probably rather loudly. "Maybe after Emmett leaves," I allow.

"Fuck Emmett," he hisses, grabbing my arm to stop me. "I need you now."

Wrong thing to say to me right now, baby. I pull away from him and grab the bottle of lube sitting out on my nightstand. He has the audacity to look hopeful. I toss it at him. "Take care of yourself," I snap, storming out of the bedroom.

"Baby," he calls. "Come on. Jasper!"

I slam the door right in his face.

Emmett smirks at me from over the back of the couch. "I'm so proud of you," he whispers.

I don't answer him, because frankly, I'm feeling rather mortified. How fucking degrading is it that he just led me away? How fucking embarrassing is it that I fucking followed him like a lamb to slaughter?

I sit down with a huff and stew in my own shame. I'm only allowed a few moments before Edward comes out of my bedroom. I don't look in his direction, but as he squeezes between myself and the coffee table, I notice he's definitely still hard—which means he didn't yank the snake, which earns him a brownie point or two—and he's wearing a pair of my pajama pants, undoubtedly with nothing underneath them. And no shirt, but he is wearing his reading glasses.

He's pulling out the big guns. And I'm a little shocked with myself that it's working. I fucking hate that he's using my weaknesses against me.

When he sits down next to me, I immediately stand up, gathering the beer bottles that Emmett emptied and the two that Edward and I had left, and he tries to help me.

"Don't," I hiss at him.

He recoils and steps out of my way. I take the bottles to the kitchen and hear him mutter to Emmett, "You could have cleaned up after yourself, you fucking asshat."

"Why, when Jasper is so good at doing our dirty work for us?"

I know Emmett is probably either just saying that to get a rise out of Edward or to make him realize how shitty he just made me feel, so I don't take that rather offensive comment seriously. Edward starts to cuss him out for talking about me that way, then hisses to a halt and I hear the leather couch creak as he stands. I'm pouring our two bottles of barely touched beer down the sink when he hesitantly steps up behind me. I shrink away from his touch when he puts his hand on my hip and tries to kiss the side of my neck.

I hear him swallow rather loudly. "I hate it when you won't let me touch you," he whispers brokenly. He places his hands on the counter at either side of me and I can feel him just barely keeping any distance between our bodies at all. "I always want to be close to you, Jasper. I hate it when we fight."

"Then don't fucking treat me like your fucking possession," I yell, spinning around to face him.

His face is right there and he meets my eyes unwaveringly. "I'm sorry," he says.

He looks so upset, so grim, that I drop my head into his shoulder with a sigh and he wraps his arms around me, holding me to him tightly. I'm still angry at him, I'm not ready to forgive him yet, but I won't deny him his so desired touching. He kisses along the side my neck, up to my ear, and my cheek.

"Look at me, baby, kiss me," he urges. I shake my head 'no' and he stiffens. "I'm not having a good day, Jasper, this isn't helping," he says tersely.

"I'm sorry you're not having a good day, but I'm not your punching bag, Edward. Just because they run over the top of you at work doesn't mean you get to come here and do the same thing to me."

I hear his throat work as he swallows thickly. "I'm sorry that that's how you think I treat you. You don't even know what happened today," he says dismally, pulling away from me.

I reach out to grab his arm before he can walk away. "What happened today?" I ask.

He just shakes his head, not turning around to look at me. "I've harassed you enough for today, it's not yours to worry about."

My heart starts to pound faster as I follow him, blocking his path to the living room. This isn't good, he's pushing me away, blocking me out again and putting his shields back up in place. This isn't what I fucking wanted. Fucking damn it.

"We're together, Edward, if it worries you, it worries me. Tell me what happened today," I beg of him, cupping his face so he has to look at me.

"It's nothing, baby, don't worry," he says, giving me this pitiful excuse of a smile as he swipes his thumb over my lower lip.

He breaks my hold on him and tries to edge around me, but I don't let him. "It's not nothing, tell me what happened."

He sighs and turns to face. "Would you fucking make up your mind, Jasper? Are you angry at me or not?"

"Yes, I am angry at you for what you did, but that doesn't mean I don't care about what happened today. Whatever is bothering you trumps me being angry, I can put it aside so we can talk."

"You can put your anger aside so we can talk," he repeats.

"Yes," I affirm. "When you said you needed me on the phone, you made it pretty clear that you meant physically and had Emmett not been here, that would have been fine, Edward, but then you fucking changed what it was all about and you wanted to fucking mark me as yours, that is not okay. But we can talk about that later, whatever happened today is obviously bothering you and I want you to talk to me."

He leans in and pecks me on the lips then turns around and walks away.

"What the hell?" I ask incredulously. He shrugs. "Fine, don't fucking talk to me," I grouse at him as I follow him the long way around back to the living room. "But don't you fucking even try to say I wouldn't listen."

He simply shrugs again and grabs the book he previously had off of the coffee table, seating himself where I had previously been in the far corner opposite Emmett. I sulkily sit in the middle, then realize just how fitting it is that I'm stuck between Emmett and Edward. Smack dab in the middle of the two of them, and I think this is all part of his plan. He wants to make me choose, pick a side, Team Edward or Team Emmett. Emmett isn't making me choose, he's trying to help me find a happy medium where we can all get along, but Edward can't fucking do that.

But it's not like I'm really going to pick Emmett, even if he's the one who isn't making me choose. Edward is my fucking choice. I'd rather have him and no one else than any other choice that faced me that didn't involve him being in my life. Edward would always win.

Fuck him for trying to make me pick though. I'm not picking. I'm going to sit here and not fucking move. Or maybe I should just walk away. The goddamn caveman and the nuisance, my boyfriend and my best friend—or second best friend, since Edward technically gets that role too. Do I have good taste or what?

I'm surprised when Edward shifts into a different position, placing his head on my leg and lying across the couch. I stare down at him confusedly, because I think he just broke the rules of this pick-a-side thing. Maybe?

Or maybe he just wanted me to sit wherever I wanted to and I was the one who  _chose_ the middle? Perhaps I was just over thinking this whole fucking thing and making mountains of molehills.

I look down at Edward and watch him read; I decide that he's brooding. He looks way too intense to just be reading and not thinking about something else. He looks fucking hot—of course—in his fucking glasses and nothing but  _my_ sleeping pants, but the look on his face concerns me deeply. Something is really bothering him.

His eyes dart up, meeting mine and we just stare at each other. I want to say that we're telepathically communicating with each other, but that's not the case. If anything, I'm getting more confused as the seconds pass. What the hell is his game? Does he have one? Why am I so suspicious?

"Yes! Go!" Emmett hollers, making me jump and Edward growl and grumble, breaking our spell.

I sigh and roll my eyes, relaxing back into the couch and Edward hesitantly reaches up to finger my hair and urge my head down. I meet his eyes again and he's staring at me all expectantly with his lips moist and parted slightly, and I know he wants to be kissed. I can't deny him again. I lean down to him and we kiss 'Spiderman' style until he's practically whimpering and moaning with need.

"For fuck's sake, you two. Stop! I swear to God, if you try to use that book as a cover while you give him head, Edward, I'm going to kill you both," Emmett grumbles.

Edward stares up at me with dark, hooded eyes and I groan. "Thanks, Emmett, now you're feeding him ideas." Edward rolls over and I block my crotch with my hands. "You are not giving me a blowjob behind a book!" I yell at Edward.

He looks up at me all angrily then grabs the blanket that I keep on the back of the couch and pulls it over the top of us, covering his head and my lap. "For fuck's sake, you're not giving me a blowjob under a blanket either!" I gasp.

Emmett starts laughing and Edward's books goes flying. Then the yelling and threats start and I just sit there for the next half hour as the two of them go at it. It's pathetic because Emmett is barely even coming back with anything other than, "Shh, game's on." It's so fucking uncomfortable being stuck between these two idiots.

"Finally," Edward groans, wrapping his arms around me and I'm helpless to do anything but fall into him as he pulls me down.

I hadn't even noticed Emmett move yet. Upon closer inspection, I notice he is fisting the remote now, but he's watching us motionlessly.

"Uh, Edward," I mumble, but his lips catch it and turn it into nothing but babble. He moans into my mouth, arching his hips up and shoving his hands into the back of my shirt to rub and scratch at my back. Fuck me, his dick is so hard it almost hurts to feel it stabbing me in the stomach. "Edward," I try to say again to catch his attention.

Edward just barely turns his head to break our kiss, sending a lethal glare in Emmett's direction. "Get. The fuck. Out!" he yells profoundly.

Then he's kissing me again and he shoves his pants down at some point because there is naked, hard, hot, throbbing cock up the front of my shirt, sliding over my torso as he humps up at me. Fucking Christ.

"How do you expect that to work? Are you seriously going to fuck his stomach?" Emmett asks and I turn my head to see him standing there with his head cocked to the side, a confused expression on his face.

It's like I'm just a fucking rag doll or something, because Edward shoves me up and away and moves out from under me faster than I can keep up with and I'm face down on the couch, the sound of yells and heavy footsteps thundering away from me harassing my ears.

I just barely collect myself and sit up when I'm being shoved down again. Edward is on top of me, groaning and growling and humping. I'm more than just a little bit frustrated. What the fuck is this? Have I turned into a goddamn sex toy? If this isn't being used and abused, I don't even know what is.

"Edward, wait," I grumble unintelligibly against his lips. I try to shove him away with my hands, but he's so fucking focused on getting his he's not even fucking bothering to notice I'm not into this. At all. I'm not his fucking possession. Fuck! This is not hot for me.

"What, baby?" he finally pulls back to ask after I continuously tried to tell him to wait. He's still not waiting, he's shoving his dick against me like a fucking maniac and undoing the buttons on my jeans at the same time.

"Wait!" I yell.

"What?" he asks again, this time not so nicely, though he has stopped humping me like a horny dog.

"Would you stop treating me like Alejandro?" I gasp suspiciously. I don't know what the fuck this is, or what it's about, but after he fucking refused to talk to me earlier, after harnessing a plan to 'mark his territory,' only to be followed up by using me like a toy, I'm growing distressed and angry. I don't like this side of him, I've never seen this side of him, and I don't fucking know what's wrong, but he needs to pull his shit together.

"Sorry," he mumbles, resuming the unbuttoning of my jeans. I laugh incredulously, and he doesn't even notice. He fucking thinks I'm upset that he wasn't making sure I was getting off too? Christ...

He pauses when he finds me soft and not at all turned on. News flash darling, what you are doing  _is not hot_! He glances up at me confusedly and I'm waiting for it to click, but it doesn't. He just starts to fondle me, rather aggressively. My libido has officially died.

"What do you want for supper?" I ask blankly.

"What?" he asks, not bothering to stop his manhandling of me.

"I said, what do you want for supper?" I ask more loudly.

He reels back slightly, glancing first at my face, then his hand on my limp dick, and then his own raging hard on. "You're serious?" he asks.

I take advantage of his less dominating position over me and slide out from under him, standing up and tucking myself back into my jeans. "Yes," is all I say before walking away from him.

He doesn't yell or curse or do anything rash like I half expected him to. I hear my bedroom doors slam and then there is silence and I hope he isn't getting dressed to leave. I don't want him to leave, but he needs to cool down so we can talk about what's bothering him so much that he felt the need to practically attack me. He can't be that insecure about our relationship. Or maybe he could... I have no idea what he's thinking or feeling right now, but I know we're both upset. Was I pushing him away? Technically I knew that I was, but I didn't think that emotionally I was, that was him again. He wouldn't just come out with whatever the fuck was eating at him. But I didn't exactly explain how shitty he was making me feel either.

And what if I was over-thinking all of this again. What if he just needed me that badly, and I pushed him away? I know what it's like to be so hard that it hurts, but he was going all wrong about the way to address it. Fuck, he'd told me how badly he wanted me though, then Emmett, and God, now I feel fucking guilty.

As guilty as I feel though, he really needs to learn that he can't always be so demanding. Sometimes he's going to have to be patient and understand that I'm not putting him on the backburner when I give someone or something else my attention. He'll always be my number one, no matter what happens.

I grab a package of chicken from the fridge, deciding that I'll make chicken fettuccine alfredo. I need to use up the chicken before it goes bad, plus it's easy enough to make, but mostly I make it because I think he'll enjoy it. I cut the chicken up while the pan heats and the water begins to boil.

Part of me really wants to go find Edward and kiss up on him and tell him I'm sorry, but I restrain myself because the other part of me is insistent that he needs to stop acting like such a fucking spoiled brat. I'm not his toy to be claimed and used. I'm not asking him to share me, but he needs to treat me like an adult. He needs to trust me. And he can't just fucking use me like a blowup doll.

The timer beeps, pulling me from my inner thoughts and I check the noodles, finding they're just about ready. I give everything a stir and find an oven-safe serving dish so I can keep supper hot if Edward decides to be a pain in my ass about forgiving me and eating. If I can forgive him his shit, then he better do the goddamn same, willingly.

I hear a door open and close and force myself not to look up with expectant eyes—as I feel the urge to do instantly. I'm whipped, so fucking whipped!

After everything is combined and looking fucking delicious, I pop it in the oven and smirk because I feel like a fucking Betty Homemaker or some shit. I pull off the oven mitts I have on and set them on the counter.

I start to wonder where Edward is, because I swore he left my bedroom, but I haven't seen him. Just as I'm about to turn around to go look for him, a heel of a hand is pushed forcefully into my shoulder.

"Bend over," he says gruffly.

"Edward," I sigh, getting fed up. What is with this dominating bullshit, usually I'm the one who's demanding.

"Bend. Over," he commands slowly, deeply, darkly.

I huff and just do it. If this is what he needs so badly, then I'm going to have to bite the bullet here and be there for him. Maybe this will make him understand how fucking much he means to me. I'll bend the fuck over for him, and I'd do it fucking backwards if that's what he wanted.

"Shirt off," he instructs.

"Couldn't you fucking say that first, you just told me to bend over," I grumble.

"Quit smart mouthing me," he demands.

"Okay, daddy," I snark. I pull my shirt off and move to turn around but Edward shoves me back down into the counter with the heel of his hand, making me bend over again.

Fuck.

I feel his tongue press wetly against my back and he drags it upwards over my spine and I inhale sharply.

Double fuck. This shit is making me hot, now. This is what I kind of wanted at one point, wasn't it? He's being all Domward, and I'd be fucking lying if I said I was thinking rationally and not getting turned on.

He makes it up to my neck and he presses several open mouthed kisses there. "I kind of like it when you call me daddy," he says huskily into my ear. "Now unbutton your pants."

I'm definitely feeling more willing and less mouthy now that he has me so fucking revved, so I quickly comply. My jeans fall loosely down to my ankles and Edward moans lowly and starts kissing my ribs, probably staring at my naked ass as he does so. I guess today was a good day to decide to fly free and go commando.

"It really pisses me off that you think you know me so well," he says darkly.

My eyes flutter closed and I'm barely catching the words that he's saying as his lips are brushing over the skin along my spine.

I jump and my eyes snap open as one warm, wet, obviously readied with lubricant, finger presses against my entrance. I stay bent over, but rise up on my elbows as he gently rubs me there.

"You have no idea," he says. I gasp as his finger breaks the barrier and presses inside of me. He stops and I press back against him to let him know that it was a good gasp. "What I'm going to do," he finishes, while continuing to move his finger further inside of me.

I reach forward, searching for something to grab and hold onto, because I feel like I need to stay grounded somehow. It's so good, I feel like I'm going to float the fuck away. Why does he have to be so hot? I'm supposed to be angry right now and defending myself, not bent over and getting fingered.

"You had this all fucking planned," Edward says, bringing a little bit of reality back into my blissed-out mind. "You knew if you told me that Emmett was here that I would get pissed and come over."

Slowly, he presses a second lubed finger into me, making me moan. I hope he doesn't expect me to participate in conversation with him right now, because I can't. Not to mention I have no idea what the fuck he's talking about.

"You knew that I would come over here and be territorial because that's how I fucking am with you. You fucking knew I'd try to get you away from him, preferably to have a loud orgasm so he would  _know_. You're mine, goddamn it."

He accentuates his words with slightly more forceful thrusts of his fingers and I moan and push back into the pressure, wanting  _more_.

"You fucking think you know every move I'll make. But you don't," he says, just before he removes his fingers from my completely.

"No," I groan. The pretentious prick, he's going to get me all fucking hot and leave me panting. I don't like this game.

I move to turn toward him, to beg if I have to, but his arm lands on my back and he pushes me down again.

"You see, you think you know," he says.

And then, oh God, and then he reaches around me and grabs my cock with one very well lubed hand.

"You can't play me, baby," he says.

"I'm not," I gasp, catching onto that part at least, but then he twists his palm over the tip of my cock and I lose my train of thought as I moan and shudder.

He's so fucking good to me, why was I ever upset?

I can feel his lips pressing reverent kisses up my back, over my shoulders, and to my neck. He stops there and licks a line to my ear.

"I know, baby, but you still pissed me off," he says.

"I'm sorry," I whimper as his hand slows its movement on my cock.

"I know you are," he says cockily. "I needed you so fucking bad. Never treat me like that again, never push me away so you can teach me a lesson, fucking tell me when I screw up, do you understand?"

"Yes," I whine. I'll agree to anything right now, doesn't he know that? He has to know what he's doing to me.

"Good," he says, kissing over my neck and shoulders. "Because you really have no idea how happy you make me."

He pushes forward, and the head of his cock presses between my ass cheeks. He's lubed and he's hard, and I think he's fucking ready. My head jolts back as I realize that  _this_  was  _his_ fucking plan. He's been naked and lubed the entire time, and I didn't even fucking know it.

I feel him shift his hips just slightly and then he's pressing forward and I moan because just the thought of what he's going to do makes me fucking ready to cum. He's almost  _there_  and God, do I ever want him there, but I open my stupid mouth.

"E-Edward, wait," I stutter.

He groans and his head falls forward against my back. He's pressed right up against me, he would just barely have to move to enter me, but he doesn't, he waits.

"Why?" he asks.

"Are you sure? You don't have to do this. If you're just doing it to make a point, I get it. I'm sorry. You don't have to do this just to prove a point."

"Jasper," he whispers, "I'm ready, I want you. Are you ready?"

"Yes, of course, but—"

My mouth drops open in a soundless moan cutting off whatever I was going to say as he presses forward, pushing into me, and he hangs his head forward into the crook of my neck.

"God," he groans against my skin.

"Oh, God!" I agree, throwing my hands back to grip his hips as I rest my upper body onto the counter. "More. God, Edward, give me more," I beg, trying to pull him into me faster.

"Shh, baby," he urges. "Slow, remember? We have to go slow."

I groan and grunt and grip at him as he slowly—fuck, it's so slow, I'm going to lose my fucking mind—enters me. I want more, harder, faster. "So long," I whine, shoving my hips back. "Waited so fucking long."

He grabs my hip with the hand he doesn't have on my cock and stops me. I don't even care that it hurts as he stretches me, I just want this. I fucking need it. Finally.

"Baby, you're fucking tight, slow down," he mumbles.

"More," I whimper, rocking my hips fruitlessly.

"Jasper," Edward moans, pulling out slightly before starting to slowly push into me again.

I can't shut up at all as he continues to enter me. I'm constantly begging him for more and moaning and groaning, and I probably sound like a fucking idiot, but I'm so far past caring. This is unbelievable. His cock feels so fucking good.

When he's finally completely inside of me, I clench around him, loving the way he fills me up, the way I do feel so tight around him. He moans my name again and squeezes my cock, quickening his strokes over it.

I move one of my hands off of his hips and reach back to fist his hair. I pull his face down into my neck hard, holding him there while I wriggle my ass side to side, trying to take more of him into me. How I could even want more when I already feel so full is beyond me.

"Baby, you feel so good," he whispers against my skin and that makes me moan just a little bit more—like I'm not moaning enough as it is. "Let me see," he urges, trying to pull back from his place in my neck.

I release his hair and he stands up straight. I brace my hand on the counter and stand up a little too, arching my back and sticking my ass out for him.

He seems to approve, moaning about how fucking hot I am, how sexy my ass is, and how good I feel. I whine a bit when his hand leaves my cock but then he uses his thumbs to spread my ass cheeks apart wider and I think he's looking at where he is buried inside of me and that makes me almost as hot as his hand stroking my cock did.

I wish I could see his face.

"Are you ready, baby?" he asks.

"Oh, God, yes!" I moan, griping the counter and his ass at the same time.

He hums and wraps his arm back around me to play with my cock as he slowly starts to pull out then push back in. If I couldn't shut up before, now I really can't shut the fuck up. The neighbors are probably starting to get concerned about the level of noise that comes from my house.

Edward is making his hot as fuck sex sounds too, but not nearly as often or loud as I am. I really fucking hope he's liking this, I want this to be good for him too. I clench around him, arching my back almost painfully to increase his pleasure and he gives me a nice loud moan in return.

"Fuck, baby, don't cum yet. If you cum, I'm going to cum. I don't want this to be over yet."

He tugs on my balls a bit harshly and that abates any urge I had to orgasm momentarily. He slowly thrusts in and out of me and we both continue to moan and he starts to jerk me off again, it just feels so fucking good. I love him so fucking much and this is easily the best sex of my life, I just wish that I could see him. I wish I could have seen his face as I watched him enter me for the first time, and I wished that I could see his face now as he took me so fucking perfectly. I want to see his face when he cums but I can't unless I crane my head in the most painfully fucking awkward way.

I just want to see him. I want him to see me.

It hits me like a ton of bricks to the chest when I realize that he can't see me either. Everything he said about plans and planning slowly creeps into my brain, shoving out the lusty fog. He kept saying that I planned something, that I planned this, and I still have no idea what he was talking about, because I didn't plan anything. And he said that I can't play him, but I'm not trying to.

But I wonder if he planned all of this. Planned to fuck me, planned taking me from behind so he wouldn't have to look at me. Planned playing me first, before I could play him. But I had no plans, not anymore. Did he trust me though? Does he even love me at all?

Right now, I don't even know, all I know is that I feel like I'm getting fucked from behind. He hasn't even told me he loves since entering me. Maybe he's the one with the plan.

He pushes into me hard, and I cry out for him to stop.

He freezes immediately and his hands are everywhere. "Fuck, baby, are you okay? Too much? I'm sorry, shit."

I don't know. I don't know anything at all. I can't see his face and he can't see mine and the emotional detachment of him taking me from behind counters the way he's kissing over my back, trying to soothe me. I don't fucking know. I can't think and I can't breathe.

I can't do this.

"I can't. Stop," I beg. "Stop, stop, stop. I can't."

"Baby, what did I do?" he implores. "Did I hurt you?"

He did. It hurts. It hurts so bad. And when he finally vacates my body, I'm emptier than I ever imagined I could feel.

"Jasper?" I hear Edward call distantly, he sounds confused, and I'm so fucking confused too. I know he's still standing behind me, but he sounds so far away. He's so far away from me.

I can see him reaching out for me, I can feel him trying to grab onto me, but I can't do this. He's so far away.

I run. It's nearly impossible to do because of my jeans around my ankles and the ache I feel from him stretching me, but I manage because the ache isn't anything at all compared to the emptiness. My vital pieces feel like they're being ripped from my body and I have to get away from him.

He succeeds in breaking me again and again. It hurts. I love him. I can't fucking understand this. I thought he loved me too.

I can hear him following behind me and I'm so afraid he's going to catch me. I don't know why it matters, he's already managed to break me again, what more can he do to me now? But I don't want to give him the chance. I just want to get away from him. I can't do this.

My pants finally fall off of me and I dive into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. He pounds on it and calls for me, but I can barely hear him as I run around to the closet connected to the bathroom. I sprint through the doorway, running as hard as I can, slamming into the door that separates my bedroom from the closet. It slams closed with some pressure that I assume is him trying to get inside, and thankfully, the force and weight of my body hitting it are enough to keep it closed while I lock it.

Edward pounds viciously on the door, screaming my name and cursing, and constantly rattling the doorknob. I rush back towards the bathroom, just barely making it around the corner before I retch violently into the toilet.

I can still hear him calling my name even with what sounds like freight trains roaring in my ears. If he got what he wanted, why won't he just leave me alone? Is this how all of those poor bastards felt after I fucked them?

I grab a towel and clean myself up marginally then crawl back into the closet, sitting in the corner beneath my seldom used coats. A sudden sob steals my breath and racks my body, the pain is unbelievable. Everything hurts. Everything.

There is dead silence, and I wonder if he's finally given up, left me, and the pain only intensifies. There is a loud crash and the closet door frame splinters as the wooden door flies inward, revealing Edward. Frantic Edward, scared Edward, broken Edward. His face is contorted, his hard green eyes are leaking. He walks right past me, not even noticing me as he hysterically calls my name and searches the bathroom for me.

I don't understand why he's still here. I don't understand why he's still pretending to care. I don't understand why he did this to me.

He continues to call my name and I hear things banging around. I wonder if he's looking for me to hurt me more. I don't think that's even possible.

He comes back around, calling for me, so desperately. And when he finally spots me he runs to me, falling to his knees and crawling to me.

I cower away from him and he sobs hard. "What did I do, Jasper? What did I do?" he cries wretchedly. His hands hover shakily over me and he continues to sob.

I don't get it. What more does he want from me? I already gave him everything.

There is a long forgotten pack of cigarettes sitting on the windowsill and I reach out for them, slowly handing them to Edward, who stares confusedly. "I used to come here to smoke after I  _fucked_  someone, so here, take them, they're yours now."

He stares blankly at them but doesn't take them so I drop them between us, opting to look out the window instead of at him anymore.

"Jasper, I don't know what the fuck is happening, but you're scaring me. Tell me what I did!"

I laugh bitterly, sobbing at the same. "Like you don't fucking know what you did. You planned it, fuck me from behind so you wouldn't have to look at me while you did it. You got what you wanted, just leave."

"Jasper—" he sobs.

"Just go, Edward. It's fucking over. You did it, you broke me. Congratulations. Was it James that put you up to this? Did he pay you? Or is he who you've really been with all along? You can tell him it's over now, you win, he wins. I'll never fuck someone again, now that I know how it feels."

Edward looks shocked, stupefied, and I think I must have hit the nail right on the head. He played a good damn game, a great game to beat a player like me.

A low, pained sounding groan comes out of his lips before he slowly falls backwards away from me. He leans back and thuds his head against the wall hard, repeatedly, fisting his hair in his hands and pulling harshly.

I force myself to look away, because I shouldn't care if he's hurting himself. I don't... I can't... I won't care.

"I'm so fucking stupid," he sobs. "How could I be so fucking stupid?"

"Don't beat yourself up, I was the stupid one. I can't believe I fell for my own game. Don't worry about me ratting you out or whatever, it's fine. Just please leave now, I can't look at you. I can't believe I fell in love with you. Just go."

"Jasper, please, you have to believe me, I love you," he cries. I can see him moving towards me again and I want to get away, but I can't, I'm already in a corner, I have no where to go. "I love you, Jasper. I'm in love with you, I've been in love with you since the beginning, and none of this was a plan. I was trying to make love to you, I was so fucking desperate to show you how I felt. But I fucked up, again. I'm so sorry, Jasper, I never fucking meant to hurt you. Please believe me, I can't fucking lose you."

"Please stop hurting me," I beg as his hands gently cup my face and he tries to make me look at him. "Just please stop, it hurts too much."

"No," he says, continuing to try to make me look at him. I can feel his tears mixing with mine and wetting my skin, but I already know he's a good actor, I don't know why he needs to hurt me more than he already has. "I'm not leaving, Jasper. Goddamn it, I fucking love you, and this is a huge fucking misunderstanding and I didn't try to make you feel like you were being fucked. I was too fucking stupid to realize that I wasn't looking at you, I was too horny to even think about how you would take that, and I'm so fucking sorry, but  _you_  need to look at  _me_  now. You need to see me and know that I'm telling you the truth. Baby, I love you and I mean it, I've meant it every time I said it and I'm not going to give up on us because I fucked up again. I can't live without you. Look at me."

I'm too afraid to look, because I already know he looks broken and terrified and I know what it looks like when he says that he loves me. I believed him, I'd probably still believe him, and I don't want to believe him anymore. It all just hurts too badly. I want a clean break, not all this painful splintering. I don't fucking understand any of this bullshit anymore.

Then he's on top of me, straddling my weak, naked body, and he's still wearing the condom and I don't know what he's going to do to me now. He kisses me, and I don't respond but he just keeps kissing me and telling me he loves me. I don't fucking get it. I just don't. What is the point of continuing on with the lie if he got what he wanted?

"What do you want from me?" I ask, but his mouth obscures the words.

"I just want you, baby. I love you. This is all just a huge misapprehension and I didn't use my big head before I started to make love to you and I should have done it the right way. I should have brought you to bed and looked into your eyes and told you how much I loved you, but I was so stupid. Please forgive me, Jasper, please believe me. I can't be without you, please."

He's wearing me thin, he sounds so honest, so desperate. His touch feels so right and his lips feel as perfect as ever. "I don't understand," I say, letting my eyes meet his.

He stares at me intensely, like he can see right into my soul and I can't bring myself to look away. "I know, baby, I'm so sorry. I know you know that I love you, I know you've felt it when I told you, and I know you can remember if you just let yourself. You have to remember that I love you, Jasper, that I have loved you every second of every day that we've spent together and this is just a mistake. I never meant for this to happen, I never wanted to hurt you, I didn't realize that you thought I was fucking you. Please, Jasper, please remember, believe me."

He sticks his hand out, jabbing my lightly in the chest, where my heart is. "You know here how I feel about you." Then he starts poking me in the forehead. "And you know here how stupid I am. I do the most idiotic things without even realizing it, baby, you know that. Forgive me this one last time and I promise you won't regret it. Just give me one more chance."

"You don't want to be with me," I counter, still utterly confused. My body is at war with itself, trying to protect me from him and from my own stupidity all at the same time. I don't know who's the one who is making the mistake here. Is it me or was it him? I don't know what the fuck is going on or what to think or what to believe.

"You're all I want, Jasper. I wanted so badly to prove that to you today, and look how much I fucked it up. It's you who shouldn't want me. I'm an idiot, so fucking stupid, worthless, fucking useless. How hard is it to show someone you love them? And I managed to fuck that up. Christ, do you even want me anymore?"

"I..." I start to answer, but my initial reaction to tell him that of course I want him doesn't seem right anymore. I'm not supposed to want him anymore. Not after... But he didn't really... "I don't know," I answer. I don't, parts of me are screaming yes and others are demanding no, never again. I don't have any idea what I want anymore.

"Jasper, I love you, how can you think that I would hurt you so badly? Do you think of me as a monster, do you think that I really came into this with the intention of hurting you?"

"I don't know," I answer again.

"I know I'm not perfect, but I thought you loved me too, despite how terribly I screw up sometimes.  _You_ have to trust  _me_ now. I would never do something so horrible to you, Jasper, I love you more than anything in this whole fucking world. I wouldn't do this to you."

"Then what were you doing? I don't understand what the fuck you were thinking?" I snap at him. "Everything was going so great, today was a little rough, but everyone has bad days. I thought it was finally looking up, I let lust cloud my judgment just for a moment and when my head cleared enough I realized that you were fucking me, Edward. I felt like a whore, being taken from behind like some goddamn nameless slut. You were a completely fucking paradox of soft lips and hard words, gentle, and yet so fucking cruel, insensitive. What the fuck? I don't know if I can trust you at all anymore. I don't know what you were doing or why."

"I don't know what I was doing, either. I've never done this before. Last night, while we were in bed talking and laughing, I just started thinking about how much you mean to me and how I would gladly spend every day of my life doing everything in my power just to see you look at me the way you do, to see you laugh and smile. I wanted to show you how much I love you, because I didn't think you understood just how much I  _do_ love you, and now I fucking know that you have no idea how I feel about you, and I don't blame you, that's my fucking fault. But I had this all worked out so perfectly this morning. I was going to come over and show you and tell you and fucking worship you like you deserve. Then shit happened at work, then Emmett happened, and I was so fucking desperate to just be with you, and I fucked up."

He falls away from me, huddling into the corner opposite me, hugging his knees, staring out the window. His eyes snap down suddenly and he grips the condom still on his cock, snapping it off and tossing it into the bathroom angrily. He huddles back up, making himself smaller than I'd ever seen him, staring unseeingly out into the darkness.

"I fucked up," he repeats, not looking at me. "I'll understand if you can't forgive me again, but just please believe me when I say that I never meant for this to happen and that I love you more than anything. I fucking love you, Jasper. I'm so fucking sorry."

He continues to stare out the window, angrily shoving tears off of his face for several long minutes and I just watch him. I don't think he's lying. I think he's being honest and this was all just a big fucking mistake. But the way he treated me still hurts me terribly, and the funny thing is that that pain is nothing compared to how bad it hurts watching him cry.

His eyes snap to mine and his mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He swallows and stares wildly at me, looking terrified and as if he's choking on what he's about to say. His eyes move down and he scrubs his hand over his face roughly. "If you..." His voice cracks and he sobs quietly, hugging his knees tighter. "If you want me to go, I will," he says tentatively, and I know he doesn't want to leave.

The question is whether I really want him to go or not.


	14. Chapter 14

"I don't want you to go," I tell him cautiously.

I don't, I can't even begin to imagine what my life would be without Edward—probably something close to hell, or the last twenty minutes. What the hell just happened to us?

He looks up at me slowly, hopefully. I move in his direction, sitting halfway in the middle of the two corners with my back against the window. He hesitantly moves to meet me in the middle and I snuggle into his side. He sighs and wraps his arms around me tightly.

"You're freezing," he whispers as I start to shiver. I didn't realize how cold I was sitting there naked. I nod and he holds me tighter. "I'm so fucking sorry, baby. You don't have any idea... I'm so fucking stupid... How could I—"

"Edward, what the hell just happened?" I wonder aloud, cutting him off.

"I don't know, Jasper," he sighs. "But please, please, believe me, I never had any intention of hurting you. I—"

"Did you... you didn't plan any of  _that_ , right?"

"No," he says firmly, urging my face toward his. "The only plan I had was for tonight to be special for us." He laughs bitterly. "I guess I made it pretty special, huh?"

"What were you talking about before, during? You kept saying that I planned something, that I was playing you?" I ask confusedly.

"I thought, stupidly, that you were purposely turning me on then walking away to punish me for the whole 'marking you' thing. I thought you kept pushing me away on purpose and that you planned to make me angry, to make a point about how utterly predictable I am. I thought you were trying to teach me a lesson, which I would have deserved, but I know now that I had it all wrong. I was angry and it's been a really bad day, baby, not that that's any excuse at all. I fucked up so bad... I fucked up."

I nod slowly, as it does make sense, in a way. "You did, but I believe you once told me that we all fuck up. It's okay, we'll be okay. I overreacted." One of his eyebrows raises just slightly, as if to say, "O _verreacted? You, Jasper? No!_ " and I smack him in the chest. "Shut up!" I laugh thickly. He chuckles quietly with me, squeezing me and holding me to him tightly.

"We're in the closet together, baby," he jokes lightly and I roll my eyes.

The pain, the fear, the whole mistake that was the past... tonight slowly starts to roll away like a dark cloud pushing across the sky. Christ, I really did overreact, but what had he expected considering everything that had already gone wrong tonight? He's so stubborn, it just  _had_ to be tonight, and I'm, well, me... I'm frankly shocked he's still in the closet with me at all.

"Kiss me," I plead.

He obliges, but it's a soft, slow, timid kiss. I pull my lips away from his just enough to whisper that I love him and instead of replying, he starts kissing me again. He grows more certain and the kiss deepens. We make out on the closet floor until we're both short of breath, and he's rubbing my arms, telling me how cold I feel.

I remember the food I had been making and jump up and away from him with a curse. "Jasper!" he calls after me.

In the kitchen, I immediately turn off the oven and grab my mitts, pulling the dish out. It looks okay, but I have no idea if it's still edible. I hope so. I grab a fork and start stabbing around, and nothing feels crunchy or crusty, nor has anything turned brown or burned looking so I think that maybe I've actually gotten lucky for once. With the fork, I pull out a few noodles and a piece of chicken and shove it into my mouth.

It's really fucking hot and it burns my tongue, but it tastes okay, the chicken isn't rubbery or anything. It tastes really fucking good, actually, and I'm fucking starving.

I turn around to call for Edward, but he's already standing there. He's in the doorway, watching me uncertainly. "Come on, let's eat," I urge. He takes a faltering step, then another and his eyes dart to my right and I look over. He's looking at where he had bent me over and I sigh. I move directly into his line of sight and give him a small smile before reaching up into the cupboard for some plates.

He refuses to move any closer so I dish him out a hefty helping and take the two plates to the table. He sits down cautiously and I scoot my chair over closer to his, shoveling in about four bites of steaming hot alfredo before I stand up again to get us some milk.

"I think we need to talk," I say between mouthfuls.

"That'd be a good idea," Edward replies, watching me carefully.

I take another bite, thinking about what I want to say as I chew. "What would you have done, had Emmett not been here when you came home from work?" I ask finally after swallowing.

"My 'plan' for our 'special night' in my head went something like coming home to you naked and in bed, waiting for me." He takes a bite, chewing slowly and I watch color creep up into his cheeks as he swallows slowly. "I wanted you to be as hot as I was, I wanted you in my mouth, all over my skin, to taste and feel only you, and you only me, and to finally make love. Guess I fucked that up royally," he finishes harshly.

I grip his hand under the table. Holding on tight. "Did it feel like you were making love to me, for you, I mean, was it just me?" I shake my head. "Wait, don't answer that yet. I  _could_ feel the love, you were very gentle and loving for the most part, but everything else... it's hard to explain. I could feel how angry you were too, you know? It wasn't what I imagined it would be. I shouldn't have reacted so terribly, Edward, but please tell me honestly, did you think your actions were okay?"

He squeezes my hand and stares down at his food. "Yes and no," he says carefully. "I was angry and I was horny, but my intentions were good, I thought I was making love to you. It's a shit excuse, Jasper. I treated you... I treated you like a whore," he whispers.

I frown and try to keep eating though my stomach no longer feels able to handle the food. "Now that I'm not being a basket case, I do know you didn't mean to. It was just one fucked up day, right? I love you, that won't change," I assure him. "Talking is good, it helps me understand." I offer a weak smile, and he returns it with a mirrored sad smile.

"I love you too. I wish I could take it all back, do it over again. Are you okay?" he asks worriedly. "Did I do anything wrong, besides what I already know I did wrong? Are we okay?"

"I'm okay. You were perfect. Had I not freaked out... Well, I don't know what would have happened, because I think one of us was bound to blow in a bad way considering the anger and the stress. As for us, we'll be fine. We are fine. Fights are normal, random freak outs make us stronger, I love you as much as ever, we just have to try again. Everything that happened tonight, the mistakes we both made, that's not likely to ever happen again."

I smile and he sighs deeply. "Good, because I don't think I've ever been that scared in my life."

I continue to hold his hand in mine, eating with my left hand at I mull over my next question. "I want to know what your expectations are."

"My expectations for what exactly?" he hedges.

"Us. How long do you expect us to be together?"

He continues to eye me warily as I eat. "I don't want there to be an expiration date on us," he says. "I want to be with you as long as you want to be with me."

"So... forever?" I ask, smiling shyly.

He nods. "That would be preferable, yes."

I chuckle and take another bite, thankful that a lighter mood seems to be settling in. "And what about kids? Did you want kids?"

He smiles widely and shrugs. "Maybe someday."

"You're okay with adopting? And cool with the whole two dads thing?"

He nods. "Yup," he says, popping the 'P'.

"What about marriage?" I ask slowly.

"Are you asking me to marry you?" he replies.

"Someday, if I have my way, I will be," I tell him.

He smirks at that. "I'd happily be your wife, Jasper Whitlock."

I crinkle my nose at him. "Husband, sweetie, husband, Jasper Whitlock will not have a wife."

He chuckles and leans in to kiss me. "I'll proudly, happily, and willingly be your husband, but good luck beating me to the proposal."

I silently sit there staring at him for several long moments while he slurps down noodles nonchalantly. The honesty, the confidence in his voice... He really wants to marry me. He wants to...

I shove myself away from the table, practically crawling into his lap in my urgency to get closer to him. His fork hits his plate with a clatter and he winds his hand into my hair as I kiss him deeply, shoving his chair away from the table. I resist when he tries to pull me down into his lap and I pull him up instead, urging him towards the bedroom.

"Make love to me," I whisper, barely separating our mouths long enough to get the words out.

Edward freezes, no longer letting me push him towards our bedroom, no longer kissing me, just frozen.

"Jasper," he strangles out. He swallows thickly, eyes wide, looking scared shitless. "I don't think... Not after... We're not ready."

I calmly caress his cheek and lean in to kiss him softly. "We're ready, baby." He shakes his head and his strong jaw quivers. "Shh, it's okay, Edward. Come on." I grasp his hand in mine and lead him to my bedroom. He follows, though reluctantly, he still seems more afraid than anything.

Gently, I push him onto the mattress and he climbs up towards my pillows. "I'm tired, we should just cuddle and sleep. We don't have to do it tonight, there's no rush."

The fright in his eyes is wild, and I know I put it there. I'm going to be the one to take it away, tonight. I slowly climb over the top of him, kissing as I go, paying special attention to his lovely cock. It's still hard and his balls are swollen from the lack of relief all day.

My poor, poor boy.

I kiss his sac, silently apologizing for not giving them what they so desperately need. He squirms and I wonder if they hurt. They probably do. I kiss up his cock, but don't put it in my mouth because I can already taste condom lube and that shit is disgusting. I also don't want to make him cum yet, because I know if I do, he'll probably feign sleep immediately after or something so he doesn't have to make love to me.

It sounds pretty manipulative of me, but he  _needs_ a release, and we  _need_  to do this.

I kiss his hands and his arms and his stomach and shoulders and lick his nipples and suck on his neck, finally making it to his mouth and he shifts uncomfortably as my cock grazes his. It makes me feel really fucking bad that I'm going to make him last through sex, when he's so obviously deprived right now.

I don't plan on wasting any time. I climb off of him and the bed, grabbing the bottle of lube off the nightstand before heading towards the bathroom. "Baby?" he calls after me questioningly.

"I'll be right back," I promise.

I tap the door closed with my foot and quickly ready myself for him. It doesn't take much, I'm still pretty moist from earlier and I'm fucking ready, so ready. I grab a towel and head back into the bedroom. Edward is exactly where I left him, looking vastly more nervous. One hand is fisted in his hair and the other into the bedspread beneath him, his eyes forcefully closed, his mouth a tight, grim line.

I set the towel down and he looks up at me in terror. "I don't think we should do this, not after how I treated you, Jasper."

I gently grasp his wrist and he allows me to pull his hand from his hair. I kiss his fingertips one by one, carefully studying him as he watches me. "Having sex wasn't a mistake," I say slowly. "We are both perfectly ready for sex. It's the way we both went about it. We were both angrily with each other, that was the mistake. It's both of our fault that it didn't go well, we should have been talking, not fucking."

"Then we should talk now, not do this again," he whispers harshly.

"You need me—" I start to say before he cuts me off.

"I don't deserve you. Don't give this to me, Jasper, not after—"

"Shh," I hush, kneeling up on the bed near his head. I run my fingers through his hair with one hand as he holds my other in a death grip. "It's going to be okay. I need you. I need you just as much as you need me, Edward. I'm sorry that—"

"Don't fucking apologize to me for what I did," he snaps, disgust obvious on his face.

How much damage I caused...

I slide my fingers from his hair, down to his mouth, tracing his lips as he tries to kiss my fingertips. "Don't beat yourself up, okay? I know it's probably no comfort in the least, but I've never reacted that way before, and I've been fucked from behind a lot. I never gave two shits if someone couldn't look at me, but with you, everything is so different. It's probably going to sound like a lie, but believe me when I say that that was the best fucking I've ever had."

"Jasper, this isn't funny," he mumbles angrily from behind my fingers that are trying to stop his words.

"I'm not laughing, Edward. I know it's not funny, I'm telling you the truth. I never should have reacted the way I did, and for that, I'm sorry. Maybe it's not the smartest thing to do, maybe we should keep talking, but I don't want to right now. I just want to be with you, I want to feel you inside of me. I want to hear you tell me you love me and to feel it when you move."

I finish my little speech with a kiss to his parted lips. "Make love to me," I whisper against his mouth again.

This time he doesn't panic so badly, but I can still definitely see the fear there as he nods and kisses me. "I love you," he breathes, taking my cock in his hand and stroking it slowly.

"I know you do; I never should have doubted it."

"No, you shouldn't have, but I never should have given you reason to doubt it."

I sigh and swing my leg over his torso, straddling him while I lean over to the nightstand for a condom. His hand never leaves my cock, nor does it ever pick up any pace at all; just a rhythmic  _stroke, stroke, stroke_. I have to grab his wrist and peel his hand off so I can scoot down his body to slide the condom on. I sit down on his thighs and they tense hard as rocks when I just barely touch him. His cock throbs and throbs as I slide the condom down his length, stiff and hot. He groans and clutches the comforter in his hands while I coat his condom-covered cock liberally with more lubricant. He's so fucking hard, I'm pretty sure there can't be enough lube anywhere right now. He's not going to last long at all by the looks of things, but I don't even care.

I don't care.

I just want to feel him inside of me, and even if it's quick, I want to feel him cumming with my body wrapped around him. I want to be the one that brings him that pleasure.

I wipe my hands off on the towel and position myself over him, while his brow quirks just slightly. "Don't you want me on top?"

I can't help it, I laugh. He's just so fucking cute when he's confused. "I'm top bottoming for you right now," I tell him.

"Oh," he says. "I just remember you saying you liked being lazy..." he trails off, chuckling.

"Shut up," I laugh, kissing him so he can't say something else to make me laugh.

Chest to chest, we kiss, and his fingers start to blaze fire-hot trails over my skin. Breathing becomes difficult as he traces every dip between my ribs, then down my spine, oh-so fucking slowly. Torture. The best torture I've ever felt, but still verging on painful for how slow it is.

Then grabs my fucking ass cheeks in his big, strong hands and spreads me apart, arching his hips up to tease me further, brushing his hard cock against the spot I need him most.

I don't even realize we have stopped kissing until his breath hits my ear in an airy chuckle. "You're wet, Jasper," he says.

My cock jumps between us and he chuckles again, grinding his muscled stomach against my dripping cock and his hot, hard length against my needy hole.

"Are you ready?" I ask, pushing my hands beneath my pillows, finding comfort in the coolness against my sweaty palms.

He nods against my shoulder and I push up slightly to see his face. He meets my eyes unwaveringly as he says, "Yes."

I smile, sitting up further yet and bracing one hand on his chest while I use the other to guide him where I want him. His eyes get a distant look to them as I slowly start to slide him into me, stretching more the deeper he goes. His eyes snap to focus at the inopportune moment I take to grit my teeth against the slightly uncomfortable feeling.

"Are you okay?" he asks quickly, gripping my hips lightly to keep me still. I take several deep breaths and nod. "Are you sure I didn't hurt you before?" he demands.

Again, I nod. "Just been a long time, baby."

I don't know how long he assumes it's been for me, but I haven't had anything substantial in me for about eight months. And, of course, by substantial I mean bigger than four inches. James was not, and the amount of time I spent trying to shake him, plus the time I spent not being with anyone at all while Edward and I grew closer equaled a whole fucking eight months. My ass doesn't know what to do with itself right now. It's jumping for joy and cringing in horror all at the same damn time.

His thumbs rub soothingly over my hipbones, swirling and massaging as he murmurs that he loves me. It works wonderfully.

Once past the minor discomfort, I'm able to continue on, taking Edward all the way inside of me. I sigh and he reassuringly strokes my back and sides. I experiment with what range of motion feels good right now and quickly discover that with the stellar banana curve he has going on, he pokes me just fucking perfectly and it  _all_  feels pretty fucking good.

"Oh, Jesus," I moan, grinding down on him.

Edward grips my shoulders and pulls me forward a bit more, making me lean over him as I thrust. I make several long passes over his long cock, trying to give him the whole experience here before I start grinding down on the good spot. I need to show a little restraint for my man, at least.

He moans and groans and sighs and meets my thrusts and licks his lips, all the while not taking his eyes off of mine. It's the true goddamn experience alright, for both of us. I've never made love before. I've never looked into someone's eyes as I rode their cock. I've never told someone that I loved them while having sex, or heard it back. I never really knew what it meant to make love.

Until now.

Edward's hands never stay in one place for long, instead they linger over my entire body, seemingly touching everywhere at once. He holds me and caresses me, feeling and embracing and loving...

His hands still on my sides and he lets his eyes move from mine, only to rake over my body like hot coals to my skin. He locks them back to mine, his voice rough with lust or emotion, love, as he says, "You're so beautiful, Jasper."

As if I wasn't already overwhelmed with how amazing this it. No one has ever called me beautiful in my life, and to hear Edward say it as he makes love to me. For him to really mean it, to think that. It's almost too much, too good to be true.

"So are you," I choke out, falling forward onto his chest as I kiss him with everything I can possibly give. "I love you, so much," I moan.

"You feel so good, baby," he rasps, stroking his hands along my back.

I widen my thighs and drop my forehead against his as I fight desperately for breath, grinding my dick between us as I hump him in short strides.

Oh, God.  _Right_. Fucking. There.

Sex with Edward is going to be... holy shit, I'm not going to be able to walk for days and not because I'm sore. I'm going to be able to  _think_  about this and cum. He hasn't even fucked me thoroughly yet and already he's ruined me for all other men. I'm his now, completely.

I'm sweating and panting and trying like hell to keep my eyes open—you don't realize how hard that shit actually is until you have to do it. I'm almost embarrassed for how short of breath I am and that my legs are already getting tired. Good sex always takes the most out of you. Just when I think that he can't possibly be any better of a lay, he wraps his arm low and tight around my hips and flips us over. Without slipping out.

He should be inseminating the masses with his un-fucking-believable qualities. The world needs many, many more Edward Cullens.

I'm so fucking happy I have my very own.

"I love you," I chant over and over, blindly grasping at everything in my fucking reach, trying to find something to hold the fuck onto. Where the fuck is the headboard when I need it?

He's panting hard and thrusting harder, his hips slapping softly against me as he hits me deep and perfect with each drive. I moan, and I moan, desperately trying to keep my eyes open for him, but it's so fucking difficult when you can't see a damn thing anyway—he's fucking me so good, I've literally gone blind. I grip onto him, and shit behind me, and myself, but I can't stay still. I'm grabbing everything, losing my fucking mind and, oh God, it's just so good.

I'm begging his name and pleading for a release and my eyes are rolled back into my fucking skull, I can't fucking stop moving and shaking and grabbing. His lips press lovingly against my jaw and my throat, my chin, my open mouth. His hand slides between us, stroking me hard as I wrap my legs high around his waist.

Best sex of my life.

I'm probably screaming that, I don't know. I can't see and I can't stop moving, and I wish I would just calm the fuck down but I can't because this is so fucking incredible that I don't even know where the fuck I am anymore. What is my name again?

"Jas. Oh, God, Jasper, baby, I'm so fucking close."

Oh, that's right, Jasper. I'm... Christ, I'm close too.

He changes our position rather suddenly, his arms hooking behind my knees, pulling my ass up higher as he pins his hands down on the bed. He hits me deeper, harder, faster and I'm hopeless.

"Edward, I'm gonna cum," I cry, then again, and again, and again until I shove my mouth over his to just shut myself the fuck up already. He doesn't seem to mind that he's fucking me stupid, but Christ, I'm verging on ridiculous with this level of mindlessness.

His mouth works hard over mine, his hips pistoning with just the right force, just the right speed, just the right  _oh my fucking God_. My dick hurts from slapping between us with no real contact at all, and I have to put myself out of my own misery. I can't wait any longer.

I squeeze and tug, probably too hard, I have a feeling it's going to end up hurting in the morning, but it feels good now, that's all that matters. I'm seeing stars and fireworks and magic fairy dust and other shit that sparkles like a fucking diamond.

Edward groans this long, deep, painful sounding grunt that takes my fucking breath away. I feel him expand in me and I can't fucking wait to feel him tremble, pulse, and explode inside of me.

"Holy fuck, Jasper," he gasps, moaning repeatedly as he starts to throb.

His thrusts shorten to almost no movement at all, but it's perfect, because he's  _right there_ , cumming, and Christ, there is no amount of sex with anyone else that can feel this good.

Before he's even completely finished inside of me, I'm cumming for all I'm worth. I try like hell not to be messy and fling cum everywhere as I jerk it, but I can't fucking help it. I don't really care, I'll clean it up later.

He drops one of my legs and I'm about halfway through my orgasm when his hand grips firmly on the lower half of my cock. My hand stays towards the top and we both jerk me firmly until I'm spent and squeezed of every drop of cum. Practically dead. Fucked the life out of me.

Best sex ever.

He wraps his arms around me and his chest slides slickly over mine, probably smearing cum everywhere. I don't care. I about have a goddamn seizure when he slides his deflating cock out of me. He works gently and meticulously to clean me up, being unbelievably delicate with the harsh terrycloth.

Still breathing hard, I open my eyes to find him. He's lying next to me, lazily grinning as he strokes his finger back and forth over my upper abdomen. "That was..." I trail off, staring into his vibrant eyes.

"The best sex you ever had?" he asks with a smug smirk.

I exhale noisily, dropping my head back. "Did I say that out loud?"

"Only a few times," he chuckles.

I'm not really embarrassed, it's the fucking truth. "What about... for you, I mean, was it..." I trail off again, this time worried.

"It definitely was," he assures, leaning in to kiss me. "It was also the most destructive sex I've ever had," he says laughingly.

Destructive?

When I look around, stepping outside of our little bubble of perfection, I realize that my bed is basically stripped of its covers. Pillows are everywhere, the blanket and sheets bunched up on either side of us, pulled from their places. And the nightstand is tipped over, the lamp that usually sits on it broken on the floor.

"How the fuck did I manage that?" I ask.

He laughs, shaking his head. "I don't have any idea. You kicked the other one over as well."

I groan, leaning up to see that the other nightstand is indeed dumped over on its side. The picture that usually hangs on the wall beside my bed is hanging precariously crooked and I also yanked the curtains off of the nearest window.

"Jesus Christ," I mumble. My room is a fucking mess.

"I'm feeling rather proud at the moment," he says, stretching cockily out on his back, all his naked glory there for me to ogle. I roll on top of him and he ' _oomph_ 's with a laugh, wrapping his arms around me. "Ready for round two?" he asks with a huge smirk.

Oh my... fuck. Round two already? I just barely finished cumming.

I only catch on to the fact that he's kidding when his nose starts to crinkle. "Oh, yeah, baby, I'm so ready for round two. It's your turn to bottom," I joke, gripping one of his legs to hitch it upwards.

He rolls us back over, pinning me to the bed. "I don't fucking think so, love. I get to top a few times at least before you make me your bitch."

"Oh, baby, you're so cute, acting like you're not already my bitch."

I toss my head back with a loud laugh at the look that crosses his face and he growls, sinking his teeth into my throat. I gasp and squeal and laugh and he chuckles, rolling around in my bed with me, just being happy and us, in love.

When we calm down, I lie with my head on his arm while he rests his face in my hair and breathes as I trace the contours of his chest and stomach. I'm just about to fall asleep when Edward sits up, grabbing my arm.

"Come on, love, up. Let me make this shit before we fall asleep."

I grumble and groan as he hauls me upwards off the bed. I shift a little uncomfortably as my ass screams in protest, acting like it's just been abused. Asses apparently have short term memories, and mine has already forgotten it just had the best fucking of its life.

"Nice sex hair," Edward laughs.

I peek over at him and mumble, "You too."

He chuckles and steps up to me, kissing me softly before turning his head and thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I moan and he chuckles and grabs my ass. With both hands. And he shoves me against him.

I wince and squeak, because my ass needs a little time off right now, and not just in the 'Do Not Enter' sense. I need a good night's sleep and a hot bath, probably a day or two to recoup and I'll be good to go again, but his cock is big and it really took a lot out of me.

"Shit," Edward hisses after pulling his mouth away from mine.

When I open my eyes, his are wide and concerned. "Shit, shit, shit," he repeats, peppering kisses all over my face. "Are you okay, baby?" I nod and he continues to kiss my nose, my cheeks, my forehead. "I love you," he says. Before I can even say it back, he asks again, "Are you sure you're okay? Did I hurt you?"

"No, baby, you did not," I tell him firmly.

"I'm sorry—" he starts to say, but I grab his bottom lip in my teeth, cutting him short. "Ow," he mutters as I keep his lip between my teeth.

I tug on his lip a little before letting it go and he pulls it into his mouth, sucking on it. When he releases it, I dart my tongue out to lick it then kiss his top lip. "I'm fine."

He's so loving and gentle, it's astounding. I know he can be the complete opposite at times, which only makes every sweet caress and word that much more special. But sometimes the level of care he shows is overbearing.

"Where are you going?" he calls after me as I turn away from him.

"To clean up the mess out here," I tell him.

"I'll do it, baby, you're sore," he says.

"I can wash a fucking dish," I mumble, mostly to myself, but he hears.

"I know you can wash a fucking dish, but I wish you would just go lie down. You're sore, I can tell."

"I'm fine. I thought you were making the bed?" I ask pointedly.

He huffs then walks away. "Fine, fucking don't listen to a goddamn thing I say, know what's good for him, stubborn sexy ass bastard," he grumbles as he goes.

He grumbles when he doesn't get his way. It's pretty damn cute when it's not completely fucking annoying.

I swipe the dirty dishes off the table and counter, taking them to the sink to wash. I cover the leftover fettuccini alfredo and put it in the fridge while the sink is filling. Edward is banging around in my bedroom, and I assume righting the nightstand and shit, but when I look in the direction of my bedroom, he is standing there with a magazine open to the centerfold.

He found my stash. I snicker to myself and start doing the dishes while watching him thumb through the porno mag.

"Does this shit really get you off?" he asks, holding the center open in my direction. "This dude has a tiny cock, I mean, this isn't even remotely centerfold worthy."

"Yes, that shit really does get me off. His cock isn't that small and he has a nice body, baby, I see the appeal. Keep digging if you're looking for the good stuff."

He tosses the magazine over his shoulder and drops down onto his knees, rummaging my porno nightstand—the nightstand on the opposite side of my bed as my 'sexcapades' nightstand. "This hiding spot is not original at all, you know."

"It's not a hiding spot, it's a keeping spot," I explain.

"A keeping spot," I hear him mumble back. "There is more than one porno flick in here, Jasper. I thought you said you had one good one?"

"I do have one good one, and several not so good ones for when I want porn and no plot." He laughs and rolls his eyes at me, tossing my porn out onto the floor. "Would you stop making more of a mess in there and clean up instead? And be careful with that shit, I might need it."

He glares in my direction. "What the fuck will you need porn for?"

"So I can masturbate," I explain slowly.

"You can't just close your eyes and think of me?" he asks, sounding hurt. Fuck. Could he be anymore jealous? "Or better yet, you could just use  _my_ porno pics."

"You know, I never opened those," I divulge offhandedly.

"What?" he practically yells. "Why not?"

"Because, it still feels like I'd be invading your privacy, even if I have seen your peen now. Plus, it kind of pisses me off that you took them for someone else," I reply, getting in my very own jealous stab.

He slowly starts to gather my porn back up, looking like he's actually arranging it nicely before he puts it back where it belongs. Note to self: When Edward is having a jealous fit, countering with your own jealousy seems to work.

Finished with the dishes, I dry my hands and flick the lights off, heading back into my bedroom. He has the fitted sheet back on the bed at least and the flat sheet is kind of just tossed on top. He's currently beating the shit out of my favorite pillow, which makes me irrationally angry.

I yank the pillow out of his hands and carefully climb up into the bed, mindful of my nether parts. "I wasn't finished," he deadpans.

I grab the comforter off the floor, throwing it haphazardly across the bed. "Don't care, I'm tired. Hit the fucking light and get your pretty ass in here and spoon me, lover," I demand, snuggling into my beloved pillow.

He grumbles—I giggle into my pillow—and turns out the lights, sliding in behind me, naked cock against naked ass. I shudder and he kisses my neck, hugging me tighter. "Love you, Jasper."

"Love you more," I reply, wriggling my ass against him.

"Are you talking to me or my cock?" he asks, sounding a bit offended.

"You. My ass loves your cock though."

He chuckles into my hair and grips my hips to lightly wiggle his cock against my ass. "My cock loves your ass too... and your mouth."

"Goodnight, you fucking adorable pervert."

"Night, love."

–

Edward is already gone by the time that I wake up in the morning and the whole night before comes rushing back to me as soon as I open my eyes.

My God, the pain was excruciating, thinking that he was only out to hurt me. It was ridiculous, but, now, the morning after, I don't regret it.

No, I don't regret the meltdown. I regret melting down so melodramatically, but the talk afterward was much needed. His words, the obvious level of devotion and love, the fact that I even reacted that way, the love making; it was worth it.

I sit up in bed, cringing as I move to stand, and kind of whimper as I start to walk. My ass is in pain.

I head straight for my tub and fill it up with nice hot water, soaking until I can't stand it anymore. Then I lock the fucking doors and find my ass cream. I don't care who you are, that shit is embarrassing to have, which means I hide it cleverly. As embarrassing as it is, it's the secret weapon for situations like this. I suppose, once the time comes, I'm going to have to tell Edward...

I get dressed and eat, feeling marginally better. I'm just glad Edward isn't here to fret and dote upon me. No butt sex for us tonight. Had we not technically had sex twice in one night, I would probably be okay, but for right now, I literally have a pain in my ass.

I work for a few hours, finishing a started piece and beginning one requested charcoal drawing. I start to get a little lost in my music and can't concentrate at all, and before I really know what I'm doing, I'm grabbing new products and just drawing. Edward is heavy on my brain and my hand is working with quick, methodical movements, transferring him onto the paper in a lifelike rendering.

But his nose, his nose has that tiny little crook in it, and I can't for the life of me get it. I move, standing on the far side of my work area, but that's not enough. I climb onto the goddamn table, desperate to get this fine detail right. From the new angle, I can. It's a small detail, but it's important. Just as important as the light dusting of freckles that color his cheeks—more on the left than the right.

I tilt my head back, shoving my hair off of my face, and catch movement in my peripheral. I glance up, not expecting anything more than a trick of light, but gasp and tumble right of the edge of the table when I find Edward standing there, watching me.

I yank my earbuds out as he rushes over to me, but he doesn't say a word as he crouches down, cupping my face in his hands.

He doesn't have to say a word, I can see it on his face. Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong.

His eyes are blood shot, his jaw tight, his entire face ashen... and he hasn't said a word.

I slide my palms over his hands on my face and pull them off. With his hands not there to stop me, I dart forward, wrapping my arms tight around his neck as I hug him close. It takes a few moments for him to respond, but when he does, it's forcefully. His arms are almost painful, how tight he wraps them around me. He drops his face into the side of my neck and just breathes. He breathes deeply, brokenly.

I give him a few minutes before I whisper, "What happened?"

He sits back slowly, digging in his pocket. "I maxed out every card that I could get cash off of," he says, shoving his hand at me, loaded with hundred dollar bills. "He moves quick, but not as quick as I do. There should be about twenty grand here. I know it's not much, but I want you to have it."

"What?" I gasp, shaking my head at him. "Edward, what the hell?"

"It's over," he says, a small smile curving the corners of his lips upwards. "It's finally over."

"What?" I gasp, this time completely out of breath. "It's over?" What the hell does he mean it's over? What...

"Yes. Here," he says, stuffing the bills into my unresponsive hands. "Take the money, Jasper. It's over, no more hiding."

I can feel it, the darkness, it's coming. I can almost see it coming. I welcome it. I can't do this, not again. I want the dark to swallow me. We're over? And he's giving me money?

"Jasper," I hear him call distantly. He moves in slow motion, reaching for me. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"Over?" I hear myself ask again. There is a long pause, then the whole fucking room is spinning.

"No," Edward gasps. "No, no, no, no. Jasper, baby, that's not what I meant. Not us. Oh God, breathe, Jasper."

I hear a terrible rasping sound and it burns, it burns so good as the air hits my lungs.

"Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe," Edward begs.

I'm in his lap, I can feel him holding me, rocking me. But I have no idea what the fuck is going on right now.

"God, I'm so fucking stupid. We're not over, baby, never. I'm sorry, so sorry. My stupid fucking mouth. Can't I fucking think, just once before I open it." His lips press quickly over the side and back of my neck, kissing, my chest aches so fucking bad... "Jasper, are you okay? I'm so fucking sorry." He kind of shoves me onto the floor and crawls around so he's facing me. "Baby, please tell me you're okay. You scared the shit out of me, you weren't fucking breathing for a minute there. You can't just stop breathing because I say something stupid, fuck." He shoves his hand into his hair, glaring at me halfheartedly.

"You're not allowed to get mad at me for not breathing when you told me that we're over," I rasp out.

"I never said  _we're_  over, I said  _it's_  over."

"That's the same fucking thing," I yell.

He winces, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispers, leaning forward to cup my face in his hands and kiss me.

I pull back, frustrated. "It's fine, I guess, but would please fucking tell me what the hell is going on, because you shoving twenty thousand dollars at me and telling me  _it's_ over does not sound good."

Edward sighs, keeping his eyes closed while he hangs his head. " _It_ , Jasper, not us."

"Okay, what the fuck is 'it'?" I snap.

"The whole mess. My father, he knows. There's no more hiding and bullshit, that's over," he explains, confusing me further.

"What?" I ask breathlessly.

"Yesterday, the thing that happened at work that I didn't want to tell you about? Turns out he was testing me, and I failed, terribly. I might as well have just came right out with it and told him that I'm gay.

"There is a paralegal at the Cullen Firm that is gay. He doesn't flaunt it or anything like that, but he has a boyfriend that brings him lunch everyday. Usually they are very discreet, and very few people in the office had even seen them hold hands, but yesterday they kissed goodbye and my father and I just happened to be able to see them from his office. It was very chaste, sweet, there wasn't even any touching or tongue, but my dad pitched a fit about inappropriate conduct in the office. And then he used the F-word. I behaved, even though inside I was ready to tear him a new one for using that word. He went on and on ranting about homosexuality and a bunch of bullshit about no one wanting to see it. I barely kept my cool, but I managed it because he's just an old asshole, no one gives a shit what he thinks. He started talking about firing him though, and I asked him if he was seriously going to discriminate against him because of his sexual orientation and my dad spouted off some crap about him not being good at his job.

"That's the biggest crock of shit I've ever heard, he's one of the best paralegals I've seen, definitely the best in the office, and my fucking piece of shit father was going to fire him because he was gay. I wasn't having that shit, but there wasn't anything I could say to my father at all. So I went behind his back. I told him what my father's plan was and I told him to quit. And he listened to me.

"So my father found out today that it was me and asked me if I was some kind of 'faggot lover'. He started laughing when I didn't say anything to that, when I didn't deny it, I'm sure he could tell I was pissed. He taunted me for close to a half hour this morning before I told him to take his money and stick it so far up his ass he could taste it. He told me to get out of his house, to forget about law school, and to forget about ever seeing his family again, because I was not part of it. He wouldn't have a faggot for a son."

"Oh, God, Edward," I gasp.

He just shrugs. "Whatever. It's better this way. I was never going to be a good lawyer and it's not what I wanted anyway. I don't need his money or his house, and I sure as hell don't need him as my father. Kind of sucks that Esme and Carlisle aren't going to be able to be there for me anymore, but—"

"Edward," I choke out, "you don't have to do this, you—"

"Yes, I do, baby," he says, reaching forward to stroke my cheek. "I'll miss Esme, and Carlisle too, I suppose, but you're more important. The old bastard doesn't have that long left anyway so when he croaks, I'm sure Carlisle will give me my share of the Cullen estate and we'll all live happily ever after."

"But—"

"No buts, love. I love you, I'm not even close to regretting what I did, I'm happy. You're my life now."

"You shouldn't give it all up for me, not Esme," I gasp.

"Esme will be fine. She'll understand, hell, she'll probably tell me I actually used my brain for once. She wants me to be happy, Jasper, you're what makes me happy. Even if you don't want me anymore, I'm not going back. It's not worth it."

"Don't say that, don't even think about there being a chance of me not wanting you, because there isn't one. I'll always want you, I would have wanted you even if you were a hobo on the sidewalk."

He chuckles at that, stroking my back. "I don't know about that, love. I would have been a really smelly hobo, I'm sure."

"I would have bathed you and made you pretty," I assure him.

His lips purse and he shakes his head at me. "You're so fucking cute, Jasper. I love you."

"I love you too, baby. I'm really sorry that you're giving all this shit up for me, I'm sorry that you have to, that that's the way it has to be, but I'm not fucking sorry that you did it. I'm selfish enough to want you more than I want you to have your family. I'm too selfish to tell you not to do this for me. I don't know that I'm worth it, but I don't really give a shit either way because I'm not fucking letting you go."

He smirks, sliding his hands into my hair to pull my mouth to his. "You know what this means, right?" he asks against my mouth.

"Mm-mm," I hum, shaking my head slightly, but not breaking our kiss.

"It means I need someplace to live..." he trails off, kissing me softly,

"No you don't," I tell him, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth.

He moans softly then pulls away enough to whisper, "I love you, babe, but I'm not willing to rough it on the streets just to give you some kind of hobo fantasy."

I chuckle, shoving him on the shoulder. "That not what I fucking mean, Edward. I mean you don't need to find some place to live, because you'll live here, with me."

He smiles slightly, a relieved smile. "Are you sure? Is it too soon? I can find someplace else."

I shake my head, then bunch his shirt in my hands, pulling him to me. "I'm sure, and even if it is too soon, I don't fucking care because I want you here, always. And take your fucking money and get yourself a bank account, I don't want that shit."

"Jasper—"

"Don't you Jasper me," I warn.

He huffs. "We fight a lot, maybe it's not the best idea for me to move in with you."

"We only fight when you say stupid shit, so as long as you keep apologizing when you open your mouth and bullshit comes out, then we can have some epic make-up sex afterwards and everything will be fine."

"Epic make-up sex... Are you sure that's how it works?"

"Positive."

He chuckles and starts kissing me again, pulling me tightly to him. He raises his knees and I slide down onto hip lap, pressing us even closer together. He moans when I grind down onto him a little, but it kind of hurts my ass so I don't do it again. His hands drag down my back, holding me tightly to him as he grinds up at me.

"Baby, my ass kind of hurts," I admit begrudgingly.

"You fell off a desk," he says.

"Shut up," I tell him, not wanting to hear this crap about me falling off a desk. I'd like to forget that happened, please.

"Your face was priceless, and you make the cutest fucking sound when you get scared."

"I'm serious, shut the fuck up, this is verging on bullshit that you're going to have to say sorry for."

He chuckles. "It's like a mouse, this tiny little choked-up squeak." I growl and move to pull away from him, but he laughs and holds me to him. "I'm sorry," he apologizes.

"Are you just starting a fight so you can apologize and get epic make-up sex?" I ask incredulously.

"Maybe," he laughs.

I sigh and smack him on the shoulder. "No make-up sex for you, my ass hurts."

"Did I hump you too hard last night?" he asks, still somewhat laughingly.

"No, nor is your cock too big or my ass too small, the sex too good or the grinding too fast. I just need some time to recover from the best sex of my life."

He continues to chuckle, looking honestly happy, completely. "Maybe you can give me a blowjob then, you know, since I was such a good boy and apologized."

"You're hopeless," I sigh, shaking my head at him.

He grins widely. "Is that a yes?"

"Oh my God, could you be any more dense and perverted?" I groan, rolling my head back.

He leans in and nips at my throat, pausing only to say, "You love me."

"I do," I admit while he continues to bite and lick at me. When I lean my head back forward, he kisses my lips, griping the back of my head to pull my mouth tighter against his, kissing me deeply.

His phone starts to ring and he shifts, digging it out of his pocket. I open my eyes as he continues to kiss me, and find him glancing at the screen. He pulls his mouth away from mine. "It's Carlisle, I have to answer it," he says.

I nod and he takes the call. I stay in his lap, wrapping my arms around his back and hugging him while he talks and strokes his fingers along my spine. He isn't on the phone long and as soon as he ends the call, he turns his head and kisses my cheek, telling me, "We have an hour."

"For what?" I ask.

"To go to Carlisle's and say goodbye," he explains.

"We? No, baby, you should just go, I don't think—"

"You're coming," he insists. "I want you there and they want you there."

"Are you sure?"

He nods, tapping my butt lightly. "Get up and put more clothes on, sexy."

I hop up, throwing something decent on quickly, and when I pass my art room, and the door is still open, I move to close it but notice that Edward is still in there, standing over the drawing I was doing of him.

"Do you mind?" I ask. "I can stop if you don't want me drawing you. I got a little carried away..."

He walks toward me, a smile curving his mouth crookedly, and he takes my hand, leading me from the room. "No, baby, I don't mind. I can't believe you cut that shit off right above my junk though."

I snort and jump at him for a kiss. "I'll draw your junk another time," I promise.

"Damn right you will, my goods need to be immortalized."

Still holding hands and laughing, we slip shoes on and head for the car.

Once on the road, I ask Edward what his father is going to do now. He tells me he's not really sure, but he assumes that there isn't a whole lot he can do. Edward knows that I draw under the pseudonym of J. Hale, but very few others are aware of that. I don't attend many gallery shows or really put myself out there all that much anymore and only the folks who write out my check know my real name. Edward thinks that it would take some digging on Ed Senior's part to discover where exactly my work is, and even then, there really isn't anything he can do to slander me, as I'm not hugely known, but already established enough for anything he says not to matter.

Edward assures me he's not stupid enough to have me whacked.

Edward's future is in shambles, though. He really doesn't have any prospects, and law school isn't an option—even if he wanted to go back, he couldn't afford it. I'll be the breadwinner for the time being, and I'm completely okay with that, though I do wonder what it's going to be like spending  _that_ much time with him.

As we start to get closer to Carlisle and Esme's, I start to fuss over myself, as I do when I'm nervous. I know Edward hates it when I pull down the visor every forty seconds, but I can't help it. He doesn't say anything about it, so I think that maybe he's getting better about the whole car obsession thing. He never said if Ed Senior was taking it away too... I'm not asking that shit.

When we pull into the driveway, Edward grabs me, pulling my mouth to his and not letting me pull away until I'm panting. He barely lets me catch my breath before he's making out with me again, and quickly the only thing I can think about is my throbbing dick. He's looks all kinds of hot in his plain white tee and jeans, his hair is a fucking mess, and his lips are all red and juicy. I want to fuck that pretty mouth...

"Okay, baby, let's go inside."

Grudgingly, I do as he asks, stiffly, without checking to make sure I look alright first. I'm sure I don't, I probably have a sex flush and my hair is probably all over the fucking place, and God, my dick hurts now.

He's such an asshole.

I fucking love him so much.

I was never the marriage type of guy, but I want to drag his ass to Vegas and get hitched pronto. I'll even let him call me Mrs. Edward Cullen if he wants to—in fact, I might even fucking like it.

Esme hugs and kisses us both hello and there is a lot of whispered words between Edward and her, and I just stand back, because I  _shouldn't_  be here. I'm the reason he's being tore away from them.

Carlisle stands back and watches as well, not coming between the... brother and sister-in-law. God, she should be his mother, it's so weird.

When Esme releases him, he approaches Carlisle and they share quiet words before hugging.

I kind of hate myself, because he's giving up this part of his life, for me, and I know that he shouldn't.

"What are you doing all the way back here, Jasper?" Esme asks quietly.

I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it only grows larger. "Will you let him know, I'll be in the car."

"I will do no such thing," Esme replies, reaching out to grab me, stopping me. "He loves you, Jasper, that makes you part of this... dysfunctional family. You're important to him, and that makes you important to us. We'll miss you too," she says, hugging me again.

"He should be with you."

Esme laughs, pulling back to look at me. She shakes her head and cups my face. "No, sweetheart, he belongs with you. I mothered him as long as he allowed, but he's grown up now and he's right where he belongs."

"He needs a mother," I whisper.

She smiles. "He has one. Two, actually."

"He needs you."

"No, not anymore. He needs you now. Come with me, let's go make a drink."

She slides her hand into mine and leads me away. Edward watches me go, and it feels so wrong, being here while he says goodbye, because of me.

"I need you to keep a secret for me, Jasper," Esme says hurriedly, releasing my hand and quickly moving away from me. "I've known for some years where Edward's mother is, but Carlisle made me promise to never tell him. Ed Senior gave Elizabeth Masen a very large amount of money and sent her away. She didn't go willingly, mind you, she was threatened, and Ed made damn sure that she stayed away. But she contacted us, almost immediately. She made us promise that when Edward was no longer in danger, that we would tell him where to find her. I'm going to give you her address now, Jasper. But you cannot tell Edward until he has calmed down. I'm positive our phone lines will be tapped so Ed can monitor whether we are betraying him by speaking to Edward, and Edward cannot call here, especially not to yell at us about his mother. Do you understand?"

I stare at her blankly as she stuffs a piece of paper into my pocket. "Jasper, this is very important. If there wouldn't be consequences to myself, my husband, and Edward, none of this would have to happen this way, but this is how it has to be. Ed is a very powerful, very angry, very bigoted man, he will hurt his own family to satisfy his own need to control. Do you understand what I have told you?" she pleads desperately.

"Yes," I rasp.

"Good. Wait until the time is right, Jasper, you'll know when it is, you know him very well, and tell him everything I've told you. Tell him that I'm sorry, that I love him, and that I wish I could have told him sooner, but his safety is more important. There is nothing Ed can do now, as long as Edward doesn't point me out as the one who gave him the address."

I nod and she quickly mixes up some drinks. When we come back, Edward is watching me carefully, and when I try to change my expression into something more indifferent, he seems to grow more suspicious.

He pats Carlisle on the shoulder and makes his way over to me, sliding his hand in mine, squeezing as he gives me a questioning sideways glance. I try to smile, to reassure him, but I doubt it works well. He doesn't push for information, at least not yet, he just holds my hand as he says goodbye to his family. I admittedly do try to distance myself from them as they say their farewells, but Edward seems unwilling to let me leave his side. I just press myself close to him and remain quiet. The level of emotion in the room is high, but we all keep it together, though I know Esme and Edward are both probably struggling terribly with saying goodbye to each other.

"It's not like it's forever," Esme says brightly, wrapping her arms around both of us. "I'll see you both soon, and I'll think of you every day, and I love you both. Don't get into too much trouble with each other."

She has a very brave face on, but the wetness in her eyes give away just how much she is fighting to remain strong. I try once to pull my hand from Edward's, but he holds fast, squeezing tighter, painfully so, and I give in, staying by his side.

There is an awkward silence, all of us just standing there after our goodbyes, all of us too afraid to move. Carlisle finally breaks the silence, clearing his throat before he says, "I'm sorry boys, but you have to leave before the first rounds are made. I believe I will be being checked upon in about three minutes."

Edward nods, quickly kissing Esme's cheek, then starts to back away, taking me with him. She backs away too, clasping onto Carlisle's hand and he grasps her's back, both of their knuckles turning white with the force they are holding onto each other with. Much like what I imagine Edward's and my hands look like.

There are final goodbyes and ' _I love you_ 's before Edward and I hastily make our exit. His hand only leaves mine to get in the car, then he is grasping onto it again for dear life.

"Baby, are you sure this is what you want?" I ask, so deathly afraid he's going to change his mind, and at the same time, terrified that he won't, and that he'll grow to resent me.

"I love you, Jasper, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he says, squeezing my hand and releasing a shaky breath. "This split from Carlisle and Esme is only temporary, what you and I have is forever. I can deal with not having them, as long as I have you, but I can't take it the other way around."

I raise his hand to my lips, kissing his knuckles once before I wrap my other hand around his, keeping his hand secure between mine. "You won't regret it," I promise.

He takes his eyes off the road for only a moment to meet my stare, and even if it's just a glance, it's intense, emotion, meaningful. "I know."


	15. Chapter 15

Edward has been 'moved in' for a few weeks now, and while there have been tough days, most of the time I couldn't be happier to have him here constantly.

He has managed to keep his jealous outbursts to a minimum, and he actually even called Emmett and Jacob to help us move him in. That was interesting...

" _Don't fucking drop it," Edward yelled, again._

" _Dude, would you shut the fuck up and go away, or I'm going to drop it right on top of your bitchy ass," Emmett snapped back at him._

 _Emmett wasn't exactly the type to snap about anything, which told me Edward was getting on his last nerve, and that's never a good thing._

 _I grabbed Edward's hand, practically dragging him away as he stared anxiously at his piano being manhandled by Butch and Butcher. I closed his bedroom door, sanctioning us off, then flipped on some heavy rock music to drown out any of the sounds that may have carried from the hallway, were they to drop it—_ oh dear God, please don't let them drop it.

" _Baby, you know I'm all for sexing you up anytime, anyplace, but I cannot concentrate on pleasing you and keeping it up while those fools are fondling my beloved piano," he said apologetically, looking rather disappointed in himself for 'turning me down.'_

 _I nearly wanted to let him think that he was actually turning me down for a second, but the way his lip was pouting out at me made me feel bad. I leaned into him, twirling the hair that reached his neck. "You need a haircut," I told him offhandedly, forgetting what I was going to say._

 _He stared disbelievingly for a moment then smirked. "I can get a haircut, but what the hell are you going to hold onto then when you're fucking my face?"_

 _Oh, unf. "I brought you in here to pack, but if you keep talking dirty I might have to take your hair for one last joyride."_

 _He made this incredibly sexy purring growl sound and pushed his body up against me, wrapping his arm around my back to hold me against him while knowingly avoiding my tender area further south._

" _You brought me in here to pack what exactly?" he asked with an eyebrow raise and smirk._

 _I laughed and smacked his chest, shaking my head at his ever perverted mind. "You're so fucking bad," I said amusedly._

" _I'm your bad,_ bad  _boy," he teased, trailing his fingers up under my shirt across my back. "You're going to have to teach me a lesson."_

 _He continued to smirk as he led me towards the bed, pulling me down on top of him as he fell onto the mattress. I crawled upwards, settling myself fully atop him, kissing him lightly until he was nearly begging for more._

 _Unfortunately, a carrying curse word pulled us from our fooling around. Edward tried to jump up and I pinned him down to the bed, much to his shock. Eyes wide, he stared at me in horror, and lust—fear and horniness meshing together._

 _"You are not going back out there to bitch at them," I told him. "We are either going to pack up your shit or we're going to sex up this room one last time then pack up your shit, but we are not leaving until your shit is packed. Got it?"_

 _Eyes still wide he pushed up against my hands, forcing me to shove him down harder. He groaned, arching his hips up against my thigh, making his arousal obvious._

" _Decide, baby, fooling around then packing or just packing."_

 _Emmett, of course, made that decision for us, walking right in like a closed bedroom door meant nothing at all._

" _Damn," he said, eying us as he turned the music off. "I was hoping for something a little more erotic than dry humping. Do you ever get enough, Jasper? I would have thought with the way you are limping around like a little nancy that you'd have been sated for a while at least."_

" _Get out, Emmett," Edward warned._

" _Naw, Jacob and I have shit to do later today so we need to get a move on. Hurry up and finish whatever it is you are doing so we can get the fuck out of here."_

 _I sighed and dropped my head into Edward's shoulder, releasing his arms. One of his hands immediately went between us, adjusting his hard-on into a more comfortable position._

 _"Sorry, baby," I whispered, kissing his cheek._

 _He rubbed my back lightly in response. "It's okay, love. Later, right?"_

 _I nodded and pushed myself away from him. As I stood, I very noticeably shoved my dick around while glaring at Emmett. His cock-blocking ways were starting to piss me off._

" _Hey, Jazz, you have a boner," he said, smirking at my obvious tent._

" _No shit, Emmett?" I replied sarcastically._

" _No, yeah, dude, seriously, you have like full-fledged hard-on right now. Do you need a minute?" he asked unsmilingly._

" _I fucking hate you," I muttered, grabbing an empty box off the floor._

 _He chortled, giving Edward an appreciative glance while he fixed his hair and shirt. I kicked his shin, which made him hiss and slap my ass, which only led to Edward threatening to kill him._

 _There was no way in hell we were ever all going to get along._

 _Edward and I started to pack up his music while Emmett more or less just stood around. Neither of us noticed him doing anything inappropriate until Jake came in and asked him what he was doing. I glanced over my shoulder to see them both on Edward's bed, looking at girly porn._

 _I elbowed Edward and he followed my line of sight, his eyes bulging as he shoved the box into my arms and darted for the bed._

" _Get your fucking hands off my stuff!" he yelled._

" _Dude, what's this?" Emmett asked, holding up a leaf of paper he'd pulled from between some pages in the porno mag._

 _"Nothing, you fucking asshole," Edward blurted, ripping the sheet out of Emmett's hands and stuffing it into his pocket. That definitely wasn't nothing. "Go fucking pack up the rest of my shit in the upstairs room, okay? Please," he begged, looking distraught._

 _Emmett and Jake shared a look before Jacob nodded and rolled off of Edward's bed. Emmett grudgingly followed, palming his boyfriend's ass right in front of us. "Gonna fuck this ass so hard tonight," he growled loud enough for us to hear, leaning in to nip at Jake's neck, making him giggle._

 _It was oddly cute, and completely disgusting at the same time. At least when I grabbed my boyfriend's ass, I didn't intend for anyone to see._

 _Edward went back to packing, more quiet than before and I didn't bring up the paper as he seemed anxious about it as it was. If he didn't want to tell me, then, I guess, so be it._

 _Edward's clothing, music, and personal effects were about all we could take from the house as he moved into it when it was completely furnished. He bought the piano with his father's money, but decided he was taking it anyway. With it safely loaded on the trailer, he was much friendlier to Emmett and Jake, though they both still rubbed him the wrong way. That was mostly their own fault though because they really liked pushing his buttons, especially by involving me in some way._

 _Jessica showed up, making a goddamn scene from a Spanish soap opera when she realized Edward was moving out. She cussed me out, in Spanish, then proceeded to hug me and cry about how much she loved me._

 _It was quite possibly one of the most awkward moments of my life. She didn't show nearly as much affection for Edward, which was weird considering she just had a melodramatic breakdown because I was 'taking him away.' Maybe she just thought she was going to lose her job. Maybe she would. Maybe she's just a crazy Latina cleaning lady._

 _Either way, we got all of Edward's shit out of there and it was good riddance to Edward's past once and for all, though, I did feel terrible for Jessica. I kind of wanted to take her with us, if only for entertainment purposes. Edward said I wasn't allowed._

 _At home, everything was unloaded and dumped haphazardly wherever a spot could be found and Jake and Emmett left. I couldn't get the note in Edward's pocket out of my mind, so I did something terribly bad._

 _Yeah, I stole that fucker. He chased me down, trying to get it back, begging me not to read it, pleading that I hand it over._

 _Yeah fucking right._

 _What I found completely flabbergasted me though._

 _It was nearly like a diary entry, only just the one single piece, dated just a few short months ago, and in Edward's elegant handwriting. It wasn't complete either, there seemed to be a part missing as it started mid-sentence._

"Jasper doesn't seem to notice."

 _Like I could stop there_.

"He keeps shoving the loose dirty blonde curls up out of his eyes and I'm tempted to do it for him. I don't know what in the world I'm thinking or why, but I want so desperately to tuck his hair behind his ears with my fingers, to let them linger in his soft looking hair, to feel the smooth skin just behind his ears. It's a ridiculous train of thought, but one that is mild in contrast to the others I have.

He doesn't seem to like the movie we're watching, he keeps fidgeting and glancing at me. I don't think he notices the way I'm doing the same thing. He keeps getting up to get more food, though there are already seven bags of chips on the coffee table, sitting untouched. I think he's afraid, that he doesn't like the scary parts of this film, but I think he's too embarrassed to admit that.

When he disappears to get yet another bag of chips, I change my position on the couch, discreetly trying to get closer to him without him noticing. He doesn't seem to mind at all, in fact, he seems to appreciate it and sits down closer to me than he was before.

I want to reach out to comfort him, but I'm too afraid to because I haven't ever felt this way before. I don't like men this way, but Jasper, he's different. I find myself attracted to him even though I don't know why. Is it his hair? His eyes? His body? I'm not really sure, but I'm impossibly turned on by the fact that he is so close to me right now. I can hear him breathing heavily.

He cringes as yet another person is axed off in the slasher flick we're watching and I bravely reach out and place my hand on his upper thigh."

 _I gasped, pulling my eyes from sheet of paper. I distinctly remember that night, and Edward's hand did not ever touch my thigh. But everything else was spot on. I was so fucking freaked out by that stupid scary movie he was making me watch and I was trying not to push him too fast and at the same time in need of some serious comfort. And Christ, he had already been having sexual thoughts about me. Fantasies..._

 _I yanked the door open, met with Edward's angry, apprehensive eyes. "Where's the rest of it?" I demanded._

" _I tore it up."_

"You did fucking not," I gasped, stuffing my hands into all of his pockets, looking for the rest.

 _I came up empty handed and he nodded. I groaned, shoving the one sheet of paper back at him. "Why, Edward? I want to read them!"_

" _It's fucking weird, Jasper, don't pretend it's not. Who fucking writes down fantasies about being with another man?"_

 _I grabbed his hand, placing it on my thigh. "Show me what else you wanted to do," I ordered._

 _He rolled his eyes, but smirked at me. "I've done what I fantasized about many times now, baby."_

" _Write more, I want your dirty thoughts," I begged, sliding up close to him to grind my half-hard dick on his thigh._

 _He caught my hips, pulling me closer and stepping his leg between mine as he started to grind back into my thigh. "How about I just show you?" he suggested._

 _I shook my head. That wasn't good enough. Knowing he wrote down his sexual fantasies was ten times hotter, I wanted that. "Write them down, every dirty naughty thing you think of, write it for me."_

" _No," he insisted. "It's fucking creepy, Jasper, I'm not writing that shit."_

" _You've done it before."_

" _Yeah, and it's totally fucking creepy."_

 _I growled and grabbing his hand, shoving it over my obvious erection. "Do you honestly think I'd get this worked up over something I thought was creepy?"_

 _He sighed, squeezing my cock through my pants. "This is a fucking stupid conversation. I fucking told you I have a vivid imagination, that writing bullshit was just my way of trying to get my confused mind to calm the fuck down. I'm not doing that shit anymore, it's weird."_

" _So my drawing is weird too?" I pressed._

" _What? No, Jasper, that's—"_

" _Exactly the same thing. Expressing yourself, getting what you think and feel out of your head, be it through drawing or writing, it's not weird, Edward."_

" _Do you get off on your drawings?" he asked pointedly._

 _My lips curled up on their own accord. "You got off on what you wrote about doing with me?"_

 _His face turned its usual shade of bright pink as he grew embarrassed. "Yes, I mean, shit, it's fucking creepy."_

 _I took hold of his hips and shoved him back towards my bed, pushing him flat on his back and climbing over the top of him once we're to it. "It's fucking hot, baby. Do it and let me watch."_

 _He moved his hands up my shirt, thumbing my nipples as he asked, "You fucking want me to write out my fantasies and masturbate in front of you?"_

" _Oh my fuck, yes," I moaned._

 _He sighed and shook his head at me. "And you call_ me  _the fucking pervert."_

That was a fucking show I really wish I could have recorded for playback. Edward, in nothing more than a tight pair of boxer-briefs, hair mussed, glasses on, notebook at the ready, on my bed, sporting hard wood.

Yeah, it was damn near impossible to sit there and do nothing while I watched him write from the chair in the corner. I practically sold my soul to the devil to get him to agree. Not really, I more than readily agreed to his stipulation.

Do whatever he wrote.

Hell yes, I jumped at that.

He let me watch him for about half an hour. Imagine my surprise when there were only two simple sentences.

" _Make love to me._

 _But first, put your mouth where it's never been._ "

I preformed analingus like my damn life depended on it. You better goddamn believe he appreciated that shit too. I promised to make love to him soon, but we didn't do it that night, which he wasn't disconcerted about at all, surprisingly. Probably because he got to poke me instead.

We've practically grown inseparable by now. It seems like every day we get closer to each other, any minute apart is spent thinking about the other. We go everywhere together, whether it's just out to Rogue's or to the grocery store.

The only time we're really apart at all anymore is when he's job hunting... That's not going so well. He gets incredibly frustrated most days just trying to find something he wants to do. I let him vent to me and I'm definitely his outlet. I'm not going to lie, I kind of like it when he's harboring some residual tension, makes the sex even more interesting.

And there's a whole fucking lot of sex. I'm quite possibly the most sexually satisfied man in the Pacific Northwest. Yet, I still can't get enough. Neither can he for that matter.

Emmett and Jacob are still going strong. We hang out sometimes, but the fact that we can't all seem to get along deters any type of strong bond between the four of us. Emmett does everything in his power to annoy the both of us, Jake helps Emmett along nicely, and either Edward or myself gets pissed enough to want to kill the both of them. Yet, for some fucking reason, I love them like brothers. Big, stupid, overtly sexual brothers.

Edward really seems to be doing fine with the whole ' _you're-my-only-family-now-Jasper_ ' thing. I want to tell him about his mother, but every time I work up the courage, something happens and I forget or decide it's not the right time. It's usually either a fight or sex that keeps me from telling him, which seems kind of selfish, since the fights always lead to sex. Really good, angry, make-up sex.

We're getting on just fine—and also getting it on just fine. Fighting is limited, sometimes he actually does just pick an argument to get me riled up so he can calm me down. My boy loves sucking cock, and you better believe he's fucking good at that shit too. I knew it from the beginning, those lips were made for cock-sucking.

I'm working on some drawings currently because Edward is out of the house, job hunting. He called about fifteen minutes ago, verging on a breakdown and ready to give up. He's undeniably frustrated with this and I feel fucking terrible.

I've decided that I'm going to do it today. He needs some good news, and I think that once he calms down, finding out he can visit his mother will be good news. I hope. I'm tempted to tie him down to something before telling him so he can't do anything rash. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I told him and he went off and accidentally hurt Esme in the process. He wouldn't forgive himself for that either.

I tidy up my art room as I hear his car pull into the drive and glance out the window. He looks worse than usual today. His hair is an utter mess and I can tell even from a distance that he's upset.

I meet him at the door and he barely notices me. It's pretty normal for him, sometimes. He gets lost in his head and doesn't function like my loving, perfect boyfriend. He forgets about what's good in his life, dwelling only on the bad.

"Why do you even love me?" is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, and it breaks my fucking heart. "I'm a failure, I can't do a fucking thing right."

I go to him, wrapping my arms around his neck while he refuses to even meet my eyes. "I love you, baby, and you aren't a failure. You do more right than you know. You should just take a break from this job hunting thing. Look into school, sweetie, find what you want to do and do it."

"I'm not going back to school while you support me," he growls, tension rippling through his body. He meets my eyes, and he's more angry than I've seen him in a while.

"I won't be supporting you. You have twenty thousand dollars in the bank to support yourself."

This only manages to piss him off more. "That's not my fucking money, it's yours. I gave it to you."

I shake my head. "I told you, I don't want the money, it's yours. Use it to go back to school and find what you love to do."

His jaw tightens and his eyes move away from mine again, distancing himself from me again even though I have him in my arms. "You're going to resent me, I know you will. You support me, through everything, and taking this shit out on you is going to push you away. I don't know what the fuck to do, Jasper, everything feels like the wrong choice. I'm so afraid of losing you."

I lean in, nudging his face up with mine to kiss him. "You're never going to lose me, baby, stop worrying. Do what you think is right. Do what's right for you. I'm happy as long as you are."

He sighs and reaches up to rub his eyes, taking several deep breaths before looking directly into my eyes. "Why are you so good?" he asks.

"I'm not," I laugh.

"Yes you are," he says seriously. "You're the best man I've ever known. You're so loyal and strong, you hardly ever breakdown, you love so fiercely, you're so passionate about everything you do."

I chuckle and stroke his jawline with my thumb. "Baby, don't fool yourself. I assure you, you're a much better man than I am."

He glowers, mouth pouting, eyes hard, angry and sad and so fucking beautiful it hurts. "I'm not even a man. I'm just a boy, a fucking child. I don't know anything about life, everything I know I've learned from you. I didn't even know how to work a goddamn washing machine, Jasper. What kind of fucking idiot am I?"

"You're not an idiot, it's not your fault that you were never taught fundamentals. Esme spoiled you, and honestly, Edward, I don't look at that as a bad thing. So you're a little naïve and inexperienced, that doesn't make you any less of a man and I love teaching you new things."

His mouth quirks up just a little bit at that, giving me a small smirk in what had been a mess of frowns and grimaces thus far. "You teach me the best stuff."

"I know," I laugh. "Knowing how to run a washing machine and give a blowjob are the necessities of life."

"Knowing how to preheat the stove and properly finger your boyfriend are important as well," he supplies, chuckling slightly.

"Definitely. And you learn so quick, never forgetting a damn thing I tell you. You're so fucking smart and so fucking sexy, your heart is enormous and I've never been happier than I am with you. I love you, more than anything, and I don't give a shit about material things, Edward. I'll support you through anything, whatever life throws our way, and I'll do it all without a hint of resentment. You can't make me love you less, only more, baby, forever."

"You know it could be like this, just like this always," he drawls dramatically.

"Oh my God, shut up," I laugh.

"I wish I knew how to quit you," he continues, laughing with me.

"Don't go Brokeback on me now, Cullen, or we're going to run into a problem."

"You're the fucker who made me watch that damn movie," he grumbles, releasing me part way, keeping his arm around my waist as he leads me down the hall.

"Oh, whatever, you fucking cried."

"I did not fucking cry," he hisses. "You got a fucking hard-on watching them fuck."

"Says the fucker who was grinding on me halfway into the first sex scene."

"Only because you had a hard-on."

I snort and roll my eyes at him. "Whatever, doesn't matter, you don't have to admit you cried, I know."

He groans and shoves me up against the wall, grinding on me. "Fine, I probably had a tear, but you fucking got hot watching them."

"I did," I admit. "But you did too."

"Yeah, I fucking did. At least he used a little spit, I thought they were going for that shit dry." I snicker, because he noticed that and it's just a movie, it's not like anyone really put anything anywhere. He's so fucking cute. "It has be awkward screaming out 'anus' while you're getting plowed," he muses.

"Probably. Do you want me to try it once?" I ask jokingly.

"Yeah, right, like you could say anyone else's name when I'm giving it to you," he teases.

"Mm," I hum, gripping his hips and pulling him against me, thrusting forward to grind into him with a humping motion. "Edward," I whisper. "Edward," I moan a little louder, thrusting against him harder. "Edward," I cry out. "Edward, Edward, Edward," I pant, grinding against him frantically. "Anus!" I scream, tossing my head back.

I burst into a fit of giggles the moment the word leaves my mouth. A gay character named Ennis really needed to be thought through a little better.

Edward groans. "Don't test me, Jasper, that wasn't really fair."

I bring my head forward and open my eyes to find him pouting at me. He rubs his most recent erection against my leg. "Don't worry, baby, I'll take care of you later. I have to give you something first."

"Oh yeah?" he asks with a smirk.

"It's serious," I tell him firmly.

The smirk falls and he nods. "Okay, what's up?"

I lead him to the couch and he pulls me down into his lap. The address is in my pocket though, so I can't reach it with him pinning me down against him. I slide from his lap, kneeling on the floor to dig the small piece of paper from my pocket.

Edward gasps and I raise my eyes up to his face. His jaw is slack, his eyes popped open wide, his face pure red.

That's when I realize that I'm kneeling before him, digging in my pocket. I nearly laugh, he thinks I'm going to propose.

I look back down, pretending to hesitate as I search my pocket. I clear my throat, using his tactic by looking up at him through my lashes. His eyes search mine, his mouth still hanging open. I swear to God I can hear his heart hammering in his chest, see it pounding in his throat.

"Jasper," he whispers hoarsely.

It makes me feel a little bad for teasing him to see him so choked up over this. But I'm a bastard so I draw it out a little more.

"Edward, I love you so much," I say, turning my head into his leg to kiss the inside of his denim-covered knee.

"I love you too," he rasps.

I finally produce the sheet of paper and he releases a loud breath, staring at my hand. He blinks several times, a small dimple of confusion forming between his eyebrows.

"What is that?" he asks.

"An address," I tell him.

"What?" he asks suspiciously. "An address for what?"

"Someone important," I say, kissing up his leg, climbing into his lap to straddle him and hold him down, just in case.

"I thought you were asking me to marry you," he whispers sadly, disappointedly, angrily.

"I know," I reply, trying not to laugh.

"You're a fucking asshole," he groans, realizing that I did that on purpose—partially at least.

"I know," I chuckle, kissing his jaw. "Just out of curiosity, what would you have said?"

"Before I realized what an asshole you are, I would have said yes in a heartbeat, but now you can go fuck yourself," he grumbles angrily.

"You'll forgive me, baby, I promise," I say, nuzzling into his throat, kissing, licking occasionally, nipping at his skin from time to time too.

"Probably," he allows. "What is this address for, who's in Texas?"

I lean back slowly, sitting down on his thighs fully. "You have to promise not to act recklessly, Edward. This is extremely important, it's critical that you keep your head right now."

His face turns red almost instantly. "Is this that fucking Peter's address? Do you fucking think I'm going to let you go down there?" he snaps.

I groan, trying to keep my own temper at bay. I don't know why he insists on being so overprotective; I don't want anything to do with Peter.

"You're fucking mine, he can't have you," he growls, sliding his arm around my waist and pulling me closer and more tightly to him, like Peter is here trying to steal me away or some shit.

"It's not Peter's address," I say pointedly. "You need to fucking drop this Peter shit, Edward. I was with him one night, you have no fucking reason to be jealous of him."

"You still talk to him," he points out doubtfully. "I don't talk to any of my exes, he obviously means  _something_ to you."

"He's a friend, Edward, that's all. We were friends long before I fucked him and he's in a goddamn relationship. So am I, for that matter. Peter is not interested in me anymore than I am in him, which is not at all. You are my one and only, stupid, calm down."

"You just called me stupid."

"I know I did, you're being stupid, so I'm going to call you stupid. Stop being stupid, stupid."

"Fuck you. I don't like him."

"That's fine, you don't have to, but you need to stop accusing me of holding some flame for him, it's starting to piss me off."

He sighs. Blinking rapidly down at the sheet of paper. "Elizabeth Meyer?" he asks, obviously taking a closer look at the slip of paper for the first time.

I cover up her last name with my thumb. "Masen," I say.

His eyes pop open wide and he looks up at me in disbelief. "No. No fucking way. Where did you get this?"

"I can't tell you until you calm down. I need to make sure you're not going to do something foolish, Edward, because this is really her and you losing your head over the whats and whys is going to get people hurt."

His hand twists into my shirt, his eyes wide and frantic. "What did you do?" he cries. "Did you fucking risk yourself? Jasper, you need to tell me where you got this from."

"You need to calm down, baby, I can't answer any of your questions until you calm down," I say, placing my hand over the one he has clutched on my shirt.

"This is my mother, my missing mother, Jasper. The only way you could have found this address is if you did something stupid," he yells. "Who did you hire? You need to tell me what you did so I can help you!"

"Edward, baby, calm down," I say slowly, grasping his face in my hand. "Fucking breathe, Edward. I didn't do anything. You need to calm the fuck down so I can tell you what happened."

"I can't! How am I supposed to calm down? This is my mom. You found my mother, and I can't even fucking be happy because I'm so pissed at you for risking yourself like this."

I sigh, taking my last resort path. I lean in, kissing him hard, shoving my tongue into his mouth as he tries to protest. As he fights me, I push him harder into the couch, until finally he relaxes into me. I slow the kiss down, kissing him softer, more lovingly and less forcefully, feeling his breathing slow down and his body loosen up.

I pull away, cupping his face lightly in my hands and ask him, "Are you okay?" He nods slowly before opening his eyes. "This isn't a joke, baby, I need you to take this seriously and pretend just for a minute that you're a logical adult." He glowers. "You can't behave the way you just did and expect me to tell you anything about how this address came to be in my hands."

His glare melts away, being replaced with a grimace. "I'm sorry," he says, turning his face to kiss my palm. "I'm okay, I promise. You can tell me and I won't freak out."

I don't really believe him, but I tell him anyway. Anytime I start to feel him react to my words, I close my mouth and wait for him to relax completely before restarting.

I can tell he really doesn't like the fact that Esme is the one who gave me the address. I'm shocked that he didn't realize Carlisle and Esme were the ones buffering the letters. He gives his father too much fucking credit, which I tell him, then I bitch about what a piece of shit his dad is. He doesn't seem to mind that I'm ranting now that I'm done telling him everything Esme said.

"Thank you," he says honestly.

I sigh, smiling at him. I'm so fucking relieved it's not even funny. "I don't like keeping shit from you. It was for your own good and for Esme, so I managed, but I never want to do that again. It's exhausting trying to hide shit and at the same time figure out when will be best to tell you."

"I'm sorry you had to keep a secret from me. Thank you, love, I don't imagine it was easy trying to figure out when was the best time to spill those beans to someone like me."

"It was important. I'll do anything for you, don't you know that?" I ask. He nods, leaning in to first kiss my lips then my stubbly chin. "I forgot to shave this morning," I mumble. "Sorry."

He shakes his head, rubbing his soft lips and tongue over the growth. "I like it," he says gruffly.

"Do you? I don't look cute with scruff." I specifically remember Emmett telling me how ugly I am with any type of facial hair.

"I disagree, I think you look all kinds of sexy right now," he murmurs rubbing his lips back and forth over the rough whiskers on my jaw.

I chuckle, rolling my eyes at him. "What about your mom?" I ask.

He sighs, closing his eyes. "If I'm still acting like a rational adult, I think it's best if we save the address for later. I'm worried my dad will find out if I fly down to Texas now. He'll know and I don't want to risk Esme, even if I am pissed that she kept this from me. I can understand her reasons and... I can wait a little longer for everything to settle down."

"You're sure?"

He nods. "Absolutely. Maybe we can invite her to our wedding."

I snort, throwing myself backwards into the couch, bringing him with me. He laughs, sliding between my legs and snuggling himself into my chest. Playing with his hair I get suddenly choked up, as I still do sometimes, realizing this is my life now. He's my life, always.

"I love you," I tell him, again, trying to hide the fact that I'm emotional, again.

"I love you too," he replies instantly, nuzzling my chest.

We're quiet for several minutes, Edward with his head directly over my heart, me toying with his hair.

He leans his head up, resting his chin on my chest. "How much do you love me?" he asks seriously, his face just as disconcertingly serious.

Confused, I search his face for what the hell is on his mind, but only find the genuine solemnity. "More than anything, baby."

"And you said you'd do anything for me?" he presses.

Beginning to worry, I continue to search his face. "Yes, Edward, of course, anything. What is it?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I plead. "Anything."

His face breaks into a huge grin, more enthusiastic than I've ever seen. "Can we get a puppy?"

The huge knot of anxiety in my stomach basically explodes with relief and I feel a tear slide down my cheek as I start to laugh hysterically.

Fucking Christ. Only my boyfriend could make asking for a puppy a fucking gut-wrenching experience.

When I finally finish laughing, he is still staring at me all enthusiastically and expectantly. Like I could really fucking say no to that face.

"Yes, baby, absolutely."

He nearly fucking squeals with delight, and I'm frankly kind of concerned that he wants a puppy that fucking bad. He hugs me and kisses me and tells me how much he loves me, then he sits up, practically bouncing on my chest with excitement.

"Can we go now? The pound is still open."

My heart fucking hurts it's so damn close to bursting, or maybe it's from him bouncing on my fucking chest. "Yes, just let me—"

"You look fine. Let's go," he says, heaving my ass right up off the couch. He drags me out the fucking door and shoves me into the car, smiling all the fucking while.

He drives even more erratically than normal and we make it across town in like fifteen minutes flat. He admits he's been wanting to ask for a while but he was too afraid I would say no. Apparently he's never had a pet and he's always wanted a dog. He tells me I'm the best boyfriend ever and kisses me like he's trying to have sex with me through my mouth.

I'm rather eager to get this dog. I really think I'm going to get an awesome reward.

Edward jumps out of the car and impatiently waits for me to get out, then leads me through the doors to the office, clutching onto my hand and bouncing like an excited child.

"Hi, we want to adopt a puppy," Edward tells the receptionist animatedly. I chuckle at him and she doesn't even look up to give him an adoption form, telling him to fill it out.

He does so rather sloppily and hurriedly. Normally his calligraphy is almost feminine in its perfection, but right now, he's all childlike, handwriting included.

"Here. Can we adopt today?" he asks.

"Depends on if you're approved," she replies.

"How long will that take?" he demands.

She sighs, looking up at him for the first time. Her eyes widen considerably as she takes him in from chest level on up. Then she glances at me, eyes widening further. "Uh," she stutters. "I'll just take this back now, I guess," she says.

"Okay. We really want to take him or her home today, so please hurry," Edward tells her.

As soon as her back is turned, I cup the back of his neck, pulling him to me to kiss him. "You're so fucking cute, you know that."

He blushes, only adding to the level of cuteness. "I can't believe you're not making fun of me," he mumbles. "I know this is weird."

I chuckle, kissing his lips again, then his nose. "It's not weird, and I'd never make fun of you over something that makes you happy."

He sighs, a smile stretching his cheeks again. "Thank you."

We wait at the front desk, holding hands, while Edward shifts impatiently, looking at the clock then down the hall every two seconds. After about five minutes, the receptionist returns to the desk. After about another five minutes, she starts to get snippy with Edward for asking her twenty times a minute when we could go see the dogs.

"I have to pee," Edward whispers at me, jabbing me with his elbow.

"No kidding. If you were anymore excited, you'd be pissing your pants right now," I tease, not able to resist at least one dig.

He glares and I chuckle. "Do you have a restroom?" I ask the receptionist. She points a claw in the direction of the hallway and I nudge Edward in that direction. "You don't need me to hold your hand, do you?" I joke.

He glares again and I continue to laugh at his expense. After he's gone, I sigh and lean onto the counter to wait for him. There are chairs, but he's too damn anxious to sit, so I choose to stand with him rather than leave his hyper ass to bug the poor receptionist.

"Is he a little special?" she asks.

"Hmm?" I wonder, then answer, "Oh, yeah, he's special alright."

"Thought so. That's sweet of you," she croons, clapping her hand over mine.

I try not to wrinkle my nose and even attempt to be polite as I pull my hand away from under hers, feigning interest in some poster about internal parasite life cycles. Edward comes back pretty quickly, demanding to know if we are going to be able to take a dog home tonight.

"You'll have to wait just a little bit longer, sweetie," she says to him loudly and slowly.

I snicker, just now realizing what she meant about him being 'special'. Oops.

"What the fuck was that all about?" he asks me, deciding to leave her alone, at least momentarily.

"No idea," I lie, moving onto the poster about external parasites. Pets are so much fun...

It's about another twenty minutes—which I spend forcing Edward to leave the receptionist alone before she kicks us out—until someone comes out to greet us.

"Edward Cullen," the woman calls, though we're the only ones in here.

"That's me," Edward jumps up, rushing to greet her.

She holds her hand out to him. "Hi, I'm Victoria. How are you today?"

"Great. I'm great. Are we qualified?"

"We?" she asks. I mosey on up behind Edward, giving her a grin.

"Yes, Jasper and myself. I put him down on the application," Edward indicates.

"Oh, yes, Jasper. Pleased to meet you," she says. "And you two live together?"

Edward grabs my hand. "Yes, we're a couple," he says promptly.

"Oh," Victoria says lackadaisically, her smile falling. Neither of us miss that fact as Edward's hand goes rigid in mine. She turns toward the receptionist whose eyes are wide and her mouth agape as she stares at our hands.

The receptionist gets a frightened look and quickly mouths the words, 'I didn't know'.

Oh, you have to be kidding me. What a couple of whores.

With Edward's hand still in mine, I pull him closer to my side, fixing a hard look at Victoria. "Are we qualified or not?"

"What?" she asks, turning back to face us. "Oh, yeah, sure. I guess I will take you back. Thank you, Lauren," she hisses at the receptionist who looks incredibly guilty.

Edward goes right back to being oblivious at the words 'yeah, sure'. "Really?" he asks excitedly. "We can get a puppy tonight?"

The woman hums her consent indifferently.

I don't like this place.

Edward is completely ignorant, all but skipping along as we head back toward the kennel area. Bored, Victoria doesn't even attempt to make conversation with us now that she knows we're of no use to her sexual appetite.

"Oh my God," Edward gasps, taking in all the dogs. He clutches onto my hand, sad eyes locking onto mine.

Breaks my fucking heart. I squeeze his hand in reassurance. "Just one today, baby, I'm sorry."

His down-turned bottom lip pouts out but he nods. We walk through the entire row, Edward peering into each and every kennel. He doesn't actually appear to pick a favorite, but as soon as we looked into every last cage, he makes a beeline for one that I hadn't paid much attention to.

She's a thin, distant red Pit Bull. She cowers in a corner when Edward approaches and he stares at her for just a moment before turning to me. I know immediately that his mind is made, I can see it in the stubborn set of his jaw and the certainty in his eyes.

"This one," he says. "I want her."

"She's scheduled to be euthanized first thing tomorrow morning, sir, you're going to have to pick another," Victoria says, not even glancing in our direction as she picks at her nails.

"No," Edward says firmly. "This is the one I want, she's coming home with us."

"Edward," I warn, not wanting him to get his heart broken over a lost cause.

The glare I receive actually frightens me. I quickly shut up and decide to let him fight his own damn battle.

"There's nothing I can do, she's already on the schedule. She's aggressive and too afraid to be fit for a family."

"There's nothing wrong with her. You put her on the schedule, you can take her off. You don't have to kill her, she hasn't even had a chance yet."

"I'm sorry, sir, no can do."

"What do you mean? Are you telling me you'd rather kill this innocent puppy than give her a chance? She needs love, that's all."

Victoria goes to speak again and Edward cuts her off. "I'll make a five thousand dollar donation if you take her off of the list, now," he says firmly.

Her eyes go wide and she stares at Edward incredulously. "Truth?" she asks.

He nods, pulling out his checkbook.

I know better than to say anything, though I am wondering if this is really the best idea considering he is unemployed. But I know this will make him happy, and she is cute, she deserves a chance. My boyfriend is a total softy. I fucking adore him.

"Alright, I'll, um, do that then," Victoria stutters. "Just, uh, follow me."

There is about a half-hour worth of paperwork for Edward, and five thousand two hundred and some dollars later, we're the proud new owners of a red-nosed five month old spayed female Pit Bull puppy. We haven't brought a leash or anything, considering we didn't really know if we'd be coming home with a dog, so we're provided with a cheap nylon slip leash that Edward takes from Victoria rather rudely.

She opens the kennel and Edward crouches down on his knees, slowly moving toward the frightened pup.

"I think you should leave," he tells Victoria while she hovers behind him.

"I can't, insurance purposes and all," she replies indifferently.

"Could you at least assist Jasper who is so very interested in that aggressive Labrador two kennels down?"

I take my hint, walking away to baby talk to the snappy black lab a couple feet down the hall. "Oh, I think it would be just a wonderful idea if I pet you, nice doggy," I say.

Victoria groans, following after me, leaving Edward alone to bond with his new friend.

It doesn't surprise me that less than a minute later he exits the kennel, his new baby cradled to his chest, and a look a severe hate directed at Victoria.

He shifts the puppy minutely into one arm and clasps my hand in his free one, not saying a word to the woman as we depart.

Once outside, he releases my hand and strokes his shivering puppy's back. He reaches into his pocket and produces his keys without a word. He never, ever lets anyone drive his car... Not even me.

I take the driver's side and Edward slides into the passenger seat, situating the puppy in his lap. "Closest pet store, baby," he instructs.

I do just that and he keeps the radio off, constantly murmuring to his 'pretty girl.' Edward carries the puppy into the pet-friendly store and we receive an assload of attention, though Edward doesn't allow a single person to touch her. I haven't even touched her yet.

Edward points out products and I dutifully grab them, trying not to think about the fortune he's going to be spending. I'm not going to lie, I nearly snapped at him when he made me read off dog food ingredients to him until he finally decided on an 'all natural' dry food.

The damn total was astronomical considering the amount of shit we were coming home with. A collar, a leash, and bowls were obvious necessities, but Edward insisted she also needed a harness, as she might not like her collar; a large sized crate; three beds, because she needs one for her crate, one for not in her crate, and one for our bedroom; several bags of 'all natural' puppy treats; a second leash, just in case; a sweater, for if she gets cold; and more goddamn toys than one puppy is really going to know what to do with.

I kept my mouth shut as Edward wrote out the check one-handed, then carried all of the shit out by myself while he baby-talked about all of her new things.

I really fucking wish I wasn't so whipped so I could at least make fun of his sorry ass. He's just too fucking cute for me to say a damn word though.

Once we're home, he has her all ready to go in her collar and leash, harness on the ready for fear that she may struggle because of distaste of her collar.

He needn't have worried, she behaves perfectly when he takes her to potty on the lawn while I again carry all of her new shit by myself.

About four hours pass and I let Edward bond. I'm not really much of a pet person, and it's obvious she's going to be Edward's dog, so I just let them have their alone time together while I cook supper and clean up—basically play housewife.

Edward brings the puppy to the table with him, at least making her sit in her bed on the floor while he eats. She sleeps happily at his feet, not making a sound as we talk quietly over dinner. Edward talks mostly, bitching about how terrible that Victoria broad was.

He decides to take the puppy out for a bathroom break again and I collapse into the couch tiredly. He returns quickly, new best friend on his heels. She's already as whipped as I am.

He plops down into the couch right next to me, clapping his hands on his thighs to encourage her to jump up. I don't say anything, yet. I will be drawing the line at bringing her to bed though. That's where Jasper Whitlock sets his foot down.

She tries and fails to jump up into his lap, and surprisingly, he makes her continue to hop and even whine a little before she finally successfully makes the jump, with the help of Edward's hand to catch her.

She's not small, really, just underweight, slightly weak, and completely unknowing.

Her tails wags harder than hell when she's finally in Edward's lap, and it seems to be the strongest part of her body, whipping me in the leg. She gets excited and falls into the crack between Edward and myself, stumbling into my lap.

I put my hand out to catch her, in case she accidentally falls, and my hand hovers over her, not actually touching. I look at Edward for assurance, not sure if  _I'm_  allowed to touch his dog or not. His eyes are fixed firmly on my hand, and I swear he's holding his breath.

"Can I pet her?" I ask timidly.

His eyes snap up to mine and he exhales loudly. "Yes, of course. I've been freaking out since the pet store when you didn't touch her at all. I thought you hated her," he admits.

I slide one hand into his and lightly stroke the puppy's back as she gnaws on Edward's pant leg from her spot in my lap. "No, baby, I love her. You were just... a little overprotective of her and I wasn't sure I was allowed."

He chuckles and squeezes my hand. "She's yours too, love. She's ours."

I continue to pet her while Edward watches. As she starts to fall asleep, Edward shifts her back into his lap then changes his position, laying down on the couch with his head on my leg while the puppy snuggles into his chest.

I lean down to kiss Edward and laugh into his mouth as warm wet tongue drags along my cheek. Edward smiles, probably hearing the sound of her lapping at me.

"She loves you," he coos, petting the pup while I sit back up. "Not quite as much as I do, but I'm glad she approves."

They both stare up at me, her gold-brown eyes matching the happiness is his green.

"Jasper," Edward whispers. I place my hand in his hair, focusing down on his face. "I want you to name her."


	16. Chapter 16

I sat and thought for a few minutes, wondering first why the hell he wanted me to name her, then what the hell I was supposed to name her?

It was a sweet gesture, incredibly, but he was Edward, and I was me. I'm artistic, not originative; I can draw you a motherfucking picture, not write you a damn story. He probably already had a name picked for her anyway.

"You want me to name her?" I asked him suspiciously.

The soft, loving look melted right off his face. "Well, you don't fucking have to if you don't want to, but I thought it would be nice if you named her," he said defensively.

So I did some more thinking, and said the best name I could come up with. "Lily." He stared blankly for a moment, then very poorly tried to hide a grimace with a tight smile. "This is why I didn't want to fucking pick her name," I huffed, shoving up off of the couch, away from him.

Edward sighed, surprising me by moving the puppy onto the couch, where she went right back to sleep, and he chased me down the hall. "Baby, it's a good name, it's just not very inventive, don't you think? She's unique, I think she deserves something a bit more creative."

"I'm sure you already fucking have a name picked out, so why don't you just name her? I don't know why you even offered that up to me."

He grabbed a hold of my wrist jerking me to stop, forcing me to face him. I pissed him off, I could see that at least, but he fucking started it.

"I want you to fucking name her, Jasper," he said firmly.

"Whatever. I'm sure you have something better in mind," I replied, trying to jerk myself away from him, but he held on tight.

"I don't. I want you to name her. If you want Lily, she's Lily, I was just offering my opinion and you got all defensive."

"Well she's your puppy so just fucking name her, I don't care." Hurt was etched clearly across his face and he closed his eyes, blocking his emotions off from me. "I didn't mean it like that," I hurried to amend. "I care, I care for her a lot, Edward. I'm sorry."

He released a loud breath through his nose, then took in another, slowly opening his eyes to reveal that he was still angry and wounded, but his voice was calm. "She's our puppy, Jasper.  _Ours_ , together. I want you to name her. Lily is fitting, I was just hoping for something less overused, but she can be Lily. She's our Lily."

"No," I contended. I could see he wasn't happy with it and that wouldn't float. "Just say it," I pleaded with him, knowing he had a name waiting right on the tip of his tongue that he was holding back for my sake.

He sighed again. "I was just thinking, because you did do such an awesome job, Lily is very fitting, I thought maybe, if you were okay with it, that perhaps, if you mulled it over—"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, spit it out, Edward."

"Calla," he whispered. Then he looked up at me through his long, dark lashes.

Like I could say no... again. But, I could fuck with him a little this time. I put on a stuck up nasally voice. "Well, there's California and cauliflower and—"

He growled and shoved me up against the wall, cutting off my snark with a hard kiss. I chuckled into his mouth as Calla growled in return down the hall.

"Good one, you woke Calla up with your sass," I hissed jokingly at him.

His eyes did this ridiculous flashing thing, and for a moment, I thought he was angry at me, so I braced myself when he lunged forward. It was something between a hug and a slow grind. Apparently I was a good boy again.

"I fucking love you," he groaned into my neck.

"You better, I just let you name our doggy after a fucking vegetable."

Yes, I did get punched for that one.

–

As Calla grew stronger and bigger, her personality―dogonality?―quickly became largely, and sometimes loudly, known. I was one-upped in the princess department, that bitch had me beat.

And you better fucking believe she had every single person that met her under her capable little paw, which really wasn't all that little. Thanks to Edward, she was currently about fifty pounds of solid muscle because she now goes on runs with him daily.

In the beginning, when he was building up her strength, I went along and ran with the two of them. But pretty quickly, they sped up and started going longer, and I said fuck it. He'd live if I lost an ab or four and replaced it with ten pounds.

The fifty pounds of muscle knows her manners though, because no dog of Texas-raised Jasper Whitlock's is going to be disrespectful. When we eat, she disappears like a good little girl. When I'm drawing, she sleeps like a good little girl. When Edward's making ridiculous fucking baby noises at her and I'm laughing hysterically, she brings him a toy and walks away rolling her eyes like the fucking awesome little girl she is. When we're sleeping... she's on the bed with us. At the foot, come on, I do have boundaries.

We do have one problem though. Edward picked the perviest pup in the pound. She sniffs out a boner faster than a fucking doggy biscuit and tries to stomp out our love making like a bad riverdance. All it took was a cold nose some place it  _did not_  belong and I was nearly ruined for life. We've tried locking her in her crate, which she is normally most content to sleep in, but as soon as we got down to business, she lost her shit and barked like mad. We tried just locking her out of our room. She tried to dig a hole through the fucking door.

She knows the 'stay' command and she knows it well, so for now, she hangs out on the floor while Edward and I do the daily―bi-daily, tri-daily, quad-daily―bump and grind. It's kind of awkward being watched, but Edward insists she isn't glaring at me. But she is. I know she is. I'm mating with her human. She plans to eat my balls.

Not that she doesn't love me too. No, she's proving that now, fresh from her run, all slobber and panting doggy-breath kisses after bounding down the hallway and right onto the couch to stand over me.

"Alright, Calla, daddy knows you love him, now give me my turn," Edward says.

I smirk.  _Daddy_. I'll never get over that shit. Calla obeys, heading back down the hall to slop her water all over the floor while she attempts to drink.

Edward places his iPod onto the coffee table and wipes a stray drop of sweat from his forehead. He's so fuckhot when he's all sweaty. He knows it too.

He peels his clinging, sweat-soaked shirt from his torso, tossing it to the floor. Tit for tat, I suppose. I rip my own shirt off, tossing it away. He chuckles, eying me up in a way that makes me feel sexy even though I haven't worked out in forever. I swear I'm not letting myself go, I'm just... resting. It's well earned. Plus, sex is exercise, we do plenty of that.

"Guess I'll start there then," he laughs, gripping my knees and pulling me closer to the edge of the couch. He drops down between my knees, going for my stomach mouth first. "Missed you," he mumbles, kissing up the flat of my has-been abs.

I jokingly look at my nonexistent watch. "Thirty-seven minutes," I make up. "The horror. I thought I would die!" I cry melodramatically.

He glares up at me and nips hard at a rib. I hiss and jump and he kisses the hurt away before moving to a nipple, sucking and making me forget what the hell he bit me for. I was probably being an ass. I'm an ass sometimes. It seems to make him hot... most of the time.

He skips my neck and the rest of my chest as he climbs into my lap, setting his sweaty ass right down on me and rubbing all fucking over me as he kisses me deeply. He knows how daddy likes it.

Right on time, the boner sniffer comes ambling on in, eying our present situation with mild distaste, mouth all wet with water and slobber. And then, oh yes, then she shakes and bits of saliva fly everywhere and I shriek into Edward's mouth because I just fucking got the dried doggy slobber off of that mirror.

She just has to ruin the fucking mood.

"Baby, you have ink on you and I got you all sweaty, we need to shower," Edward says suggestively, eyes dilated and tongue tracing his lips.

And he resurrects said mood with a grind of his hips.

–

After getting Calla home, Edward decided he was getting tired of the frustrating and tedious task of job hunting. He took a few weeks off, which led to one really well trained puppy and one incredibly sexually satisfied boyfriend.

Now though, he was getting bored and I could see it. I spent a lot of time during the day working on getting pieces ready because the thought of not having one steady income between the two of us scared the shit out of me. Drawing came easily, at least. Edward had no fucking idea what to do with himself though.

He learned really easy shit like how to clean the house, which was awesome because I fucking hate cleaning and he's oddly fascinated by the vacuum cleaner. I don't even know.

He spends hours playing the piano and composing, which makes him happy for the most part. I don't know why he doesn't just pursue a career in music, but he seems to think he doesn't stand a chance.

I'm not pressuring him, it's his choice. I want him to be happy and to do whatever makes him happy, and for now, my income is holding steady and we always have that money in his bank account to fall back onto if worse comes to worst.

I just finished my latest piece of shit painting―because I'm still pretending I know what the fuck I'm doing with paints―and I'm utterly depressed by its level of suck. Edward's piano playing isn't helping because it sounds like he's playing a fucking funeral march, though it's probably original because he's a genius, but it's still depressing as fuck.

I step on one of Calla's billion toys and swear loudly because she always leaves the hard ones where I can fucking step on them. Edward's playing falters and I try not to feel grateful because I do love it when he plays, just not the sad shit.

"Calla, put your fucking toys away," I yell at her.

She merely raises her head off the couch at her name, sneezes, then goes back to sleep.

Grumbling, I start to gather up the five million toys she has discarded on the floor. I know damn well as soon as they are put away in her basket, she'll sneak off and drag every last one back out.

I'm bent over when Edward comes up behind me, gripping my hips and lightly brushing his groin against my ass.

"I'm not in the mood," I snap.

"Testy, testy," he chuckles, not releasing my hips. "I'm pretty sure I can remedy that if you stop being such a grump." I stand up and Edward wraps his arms around my waist, holding me close as he kisses over the back of my neck. "Let's go out tonight. You've been worrying too much and we need to get out of here for a bit, unwind and relax. We can hit Rogue's."

"I don't think so," I mumble, pulling out of his grasp to pick up the rest of Calla's toys.

"Why?" he asks.

"Because it's open mike night, and you're just going to be pissy about the number of people and I'm going to get pissy because you're going to be bitching, and I'm obviously already pissy, and I don't think it's a good idea," I ramble. Mostly I just don't want to go because I don't exactly have cash to blow on liquor at the moment, I just don't want to say that out loud.

"I promise I won't be pissy. Come on, let's go. I'll help you shower," he says with a smirk against the side of my neck, catching me in another embrace. He nuzzles further into my shoulder and not so innocently starts to rub my crotch. "Please, baby, I don't want to go by myself. I'll make it worth your while. Come with me," he drawls suggestively, grinding against my ass as he rubs my cock through my jeans.

Boner sniffer joins the party, barking at me angrily because I have both her toys and her human's attention. I'm tempted to stick my tongue out at her.

Edward drags me to the shower before I have a chance.

–

The idea struck me about four minutes ago, when I decided to drop to my knees, out of the reach of his super fucking long and talented fingers. He just smirked and looked down at me, dripping water and looking so fucking sexy that I nearly forgot why I was even currently on my knees.

I hadn't agreed to go out tonight yet, he just thought I was agreeing by getting naked and getting in the shower with him. Silly bastard, doesn't he know I'll follow his naked ass anywhere? It's when his ass is either covered or out of my view that my brain starts to work.

Apparently his fingers wrapped around my cock didn't stop my thought process, because he was giving me one hell of a handjob when the idea hit me. I think I could persuade him, maybe. I'm hoping an awesome blowjob will help. He really seems to like getting head, so he better fucking agree, or I'm never giving him head again.

Okay, probably not because I can't keep my fucking lips off of his cock. But I can threaten him, at least, he might believe me if he's not really thinking clearly.

So I get him nice and warmed up, and he's looking down at me all hot and horny, watching his cock slide through my lips. I know the second he starts getting ready to cum so I pull off. He huffs and his jaw tightens and he glares down at me.

"Baby?" I ask, looking deep in thought―the fucking picture of innocence.

"What, Jas?"

I try not to laugh at how disgruntled he sounds. He hates when I tease, fucking  _hates_ it. Too bad for him. "Do you really want me to come tonight?" I ask, trying to look as adorable and fuckable as he does when he looks up at me through his lashes.

He looks so confused for a moment, then he gets I'm not talking about cum-coming, but come-coming to Rogue's. "Of course I do. Please come with me."

"I don't really want to go," I say, biting my lip and peeking up at him through my lashes again.

He sighs. "Please, baby? We need a night out. You need a night out, you work so much..."

I sigh too, then lean in and lick at the head of his cock. He groans and tightens his grip on my hair. I know what he wants to do, he wants to shut me up and cum in my mouth, but he doesn't get to cum until he agrees. I sigh again.

He moves one of his hands to caress my cheek. "What's the matter, baby?" he asks, trying to be sweet, but I can see he's starting to get pissed that I won't just put his dick in my mouth and make him cum.

"Nothing," I say, making it obvious that I'm lying and sad, and then I take his cock into my throat.

"Jesus fuck," he moans, his head falling back.

I look up at him until he looks down at me again, then I try to give him my best sad eyes before lowering them away from his stare and closing them.

"Baby, what is it?" he asks softly.

I shake my head side to side and swallow down his entire length. He curses like fucking crazy, then starts to pull me off of him.

I try like hell not to smirk for being a manipulative bastard.

"Tell me what's bothering you, Jasper. I can't fucking watch you suck my cock when you look so fucking sad. We don't have to go out tonight if it's going to bother you that much, but if this is about money, I'm going to be pissed off."

"It's not that," I say softly, though I guess honestly, that was why I didn't want to go out. But now I want to, if he'll agree to do what I want. I just can't drink, which is fine, I don't need to, and I want to be sober for it anyway. "It doesn't matter. Let me taste you," I tease, grabbing onto his thighs to pull him back toward my mouth.

"It matters, tell me what's― Holy fuck, Jasper." I watch his eyes roll back into his head and chuckle around him, hoping it just feels and sounds like a gargling, vibrating moan to him.

He's helpless under the magic of my mouth and tongue, and as soon as he is right back where I want him, right on the brink of an orgasm, I pull off again. His fingers tightened painfully in my hair and I whimper, making him release, then pet apologetically.

I keep my eyes on the shower floor. "Edward?" I ask timidly, moving my eyes up to his.

"Yeah," he replies stiffly.

I bite my lip and look back down. "Never mind, I'm sorry," I whisper, leaning back in for his cock.

"No, Jas, tell me. Please."

"It's just that it's going to be so packed and we won't be able to talk and I mean, maybe that's why you want to go..." I trail off, and I'm taking it too far and I know it, but I  _really_  want him to agree.

"No, babe, of course not. I always want to talk to you," he says, tilting my head back to meet my eyes.

"Okay. But those idiots on stage always sound so terrible, I want to hear someone good sing."

"I'm sure there will be some good ones," he assures me.

"Okay," I sigh again. "But I'm only going if you promise there will be someone good on stage."

"How am I supposed to know who they're going to let up there, Jasper? I can't make that promise to you."

"Yes you can. You can promise me that someone good will be on the stage, someone who deserves to be," I tell him.

He huffs. "Fuck, Jasper, I'm not going to make you a promise I can't keep."

"You can promise it and you can make sure to keep it too," I hint.

"How? How am I supposed to know if someone good is going to be up there?"

"You can be up there," I say, looking up at him.

His face blanches and he closes his eyes angrily. "No, Jasper," he snaps at me.

"Okay," I whisper, "if you really don't want to, for me. I don't want to go though. I'll just stay here and you can go by yourself, since that's what you want," I continue, tracing his big toe with my finger then pushing myself further away from him. My voice even cracks.

God, I'm an asshole.

"Jasper, don't do this to me," he whines. "I can't, you know I can't."

"No, I know you can, you just won't. You won't do it for me," I whine.

He growls and stomps his foot. Yes, he stomps his fucking foot, like a petulant child, and I think he fucking got that habit from me, and it's hilarious, but I can't laugh. "You don't understand, Jasper," he yells.

"Oh, I understand," I say, putting my man voice back on. "I understand exactly what it's like to stand in front of a crowd and be deathly afraid that they aren't going to like you, that they won't appreciate your talent. I know how fucking scary it is to put yourself out there, to put your dream right in the hands of a bunch of fucking strangers. I understand, Edward, because I had to do it too. I did it, I did it  _alone_ , without anyone's support, and look where it got me. People pay me to do what I love, because I took a chance and they liked what I did.  _I_  will be there for you,  _I_  will be in that crowd when you take that chance,  _I_ will come right up on that fucking stage and hold your motherfucking hand if that's what it takes, but you have to do this, you have to. For you, or for me, or for your mom, you have to put yourself out there and stop being a fucking chicken."

His expression changes so many times, I'm not even sure if he's going to hit me or pull me up and kiss me or cry or fuck my face. He growls at me first and I raise an eyebrow, daring him to say it, to tell me it's not the same when he knows it is. I dare him to fucking tell me it's harder for him, when he knows damn well that it's not. I dare him to tell me that it doesn't matter what I think because I'll be just one person in a large crowd. But he knows better, he knows that he can't say any of that shit without getting himself in trouble, and he knows that none of it is true, so he can't say it.

"Fucking asshole, I hate that I love you, suck my cock."

That. That is what he says. And I fucking smile the entire time I'm sucking his cock, and he tells me that I look creepy and I laugh and he smiles and laughs too and tells me to shut up. He cums and cusses me out for being an asshole and making him agree to do something he doesn't want to do. I just tell him life's a fucking bitch that way and he better get used to it. Then I start fucking skipping around because I'm so happy and he grumbles and grumbles and grumbles.

Needless to say, I'm the one who is excited to go to Rogue's when all is said and done. He was so busy grumbling that he could barely dress himself, so I did it for him and he looked so sexy, I nearly took it all right back off. He knew it too, and he tried to use my weakness against me, but I'm a fucking Jedi and my force is strong. I'm positive that is the only reason we didn't end up in bed instead of at Rogue's.

Rogue's is fucking packed. There aren't any tables or barstools, there's barely even room to fucking breathe, but Edward just elbows his way through the throng like a fucking bouncer or some shit, dragging me along, grumbling, straight to the bar. He tries to order me a drink and he gets really pissy when I decline it.

"You're having a fucking drink," he tells me. I shake my head 'no' and push the beer away. "Fine, I'm having it for you then," he threatens.

"Okay, but just know that I'm still making you get on stage even when you're drunk."

He grumbles some more while I make my way over to the stage manager to sign him up. The list is long and he won't be on for a while so I'm happy he left his acoustic in the car for now.

He's practically shaking with nerves when I tell him he'll be on at eleven-forty. I drag him out into the crowd and he just keeps looking around, seeing all the people.

Right there in the middle of the crowd, I kiss him. He's okay with being public, most of the time he's the one all over me, but we usually keep it toned down, sort of. There have been a couple incidences where I nearly gave him head in public. If cars count as being in public, then we've rounded home a whole lot in public.

Or he's rounded home, because I'm still on third base where he's concerned. That's okay though, I'm okay with waiting. He doesn't push for it so I'm not going to either. I think he's still worried it's going to change something, and knowing him, it probably will change something. I'll probably become a fucking permanent top. I know damn well he's going to fucking end up loving it and turn into a little cock whore.

"What are you thinking about?" he whispers into my ear.

"Hmm? Nothing, nothing," I say.

"That doesn't feel like nothing, Jas," he questions, brushing against my wood with his thigh.

He's taken to calling me 'Jas' lately, I don't mind. At least it's not 'Jazzy' or something equally annoying. "Just thinking about how fucking hot you are," I say, squeezing his ass.

He chuckles. I can still hear his nerves, but at least he's not shaking anymore. "You're going to have to give me head again before I go up there," he whispers.

I full out laugh at that one. "Not a chance, baby. You don't get anymore head until you go through with this. Then you can have all the face fucking and rimjobs and every-fucking-thing else you want."

"Don't start promising rimjobs unless you plan on going through with it," he grumbles. The little pervert has a thing about my tongue in his ass. I don't know, I don't get the appeal, I'm not a fan of giving or receiving it, but he fucking loves it so I go for it on special occasions.

"I'll rim you all night long if you go up there and sing for me like a good boy," I promise in his ear. I will too, he can have anything he wants as a reward for taking a chance.

He swallows thickly, then there is hot, hard dick on my thigh and he growls at me. "Is it your plan to publicly humiliate me? I'm going to end up on that stage with a fucking hard-on if you don't take care of me, now."

"I'm not rimming you in the public," I tell him.

"Fucking Christ," he groans. "That's not what I mean. I can't go up on that stage if I have a boner, Jasper."

I sigh. "Well, I could grind on you down here, but I think a cum stain would be more embarrassing than a boner, Edward."

He groans and starts to shake again. "You're not helping me," he whines, pressing his face into my shoulder.

I spend the next hour telling him how amazing he is, holding onto him and kissing him while shitty singers go up there and try to be everyone from George Michael to fucking Aaron Lewis and they all fail, miserably.

"I can't do it, I can't do it, I can't," he whimpers as I take him out to the car to get his guitar. He clings onto my hand until we get to the car, then he throws himself into the front seat, refusing to look at me.

I leave him out there to talk himself either into it or out of it, and I know that leaving him to his thoughts is going to piss him off and drive him crazy. That's my plan. If in the end he can't do it, then that's fine, I'll still give him whatever he wants; I love him and I know he's scared. But I think he'll get pissed. He'll get pissed and tell himself that I think he can't do it and he'll get pissed at me for thinking he can't do it, then he'll prove me wrong, even though I know he can do it. It's just how his head works. He's a moody little fucker.

So I wait for him at the side of the stage while they announce his name and his instrument of choice. He shows up out of nowhere and rips the guitar out of my hands, marching past me right up onto that fucking stage. He sets the microphone where he wants it, then in a confident voice he says, "I'm only up here because my asshole boyfriend made me do it. Now where are you, asshole, you said you'd be right out front."

The crowd laughs and some hoot and howl and catcall and wolf whistle and I shove my way to the front of the crowd, right up against the stage, dead center, right in front of him. He looks at me for a minute then gets that scared puppy look on his face―the look Calla had when he found her. He doesn't even have to ask. I turn around and drop down into a crouch.

He's afraid of failing. He's afraid of failing with me there at the front of the crowd. He doesn't want me to see him fail. So I disappear and let him pretend that I'm not there.

And he starts to strum, then stops and says, "Uh, this is Johnny Cash's 'Hurt'."

He plays this song all the damn time and it's so fucking depressing, but I think it's a good choice. He knows it well. He'll probably kick the song's ass.

He does. He fucking kicks its ass. He kills it. He owns it. He... he's just so fucking amazing and I wish he could see it like I do. Like everyone does. They love him. I love him.

The crowd goes nuts and Edward just walks off the fucking stage and I laugh, rushing to meet him. He nearly loses his balance with how hard I barrel into him, but he catches me, and the guitar does too, right in the stomach and it hurts like hell, but he just pushes it out of the way for me.

I fucking jump on him, wrapping my legs around him and my arms and kissing his fucking face off, and he staggers until he finds a damn wall and pushes me against it. We're the same damn size, nearly. He's just slightly shorter and more built than I am, and I'm crazy for being a girl and expecting him to fucking carry me like that. He wouldn't drop me though, he never would, he never does.

"You're fucking heavier than you look," he mumbles between kisses.

"Fuck off, I haven't gained weight," I snap defensively. I have. Only a little. Like two pounds. Can he really fucking tell? I need to start running with him and Calla. I can't get fat. I won't.

Apparently my expression is funny because he laughs at me. I drop my legs from around him and shove him back, landing on my feet.

"Hey, you don't get to push me away after I just kicked ass on stage, you owe me a whole night of fucking now, baby."

I don't get a chance to reply to that because some tiny, huge-eyed blonde barges in on our party. "I'm Char, can I see you next week?" she asks Edward, thrusting her arm out toward him.

"Uh, I'm gay," he says, motioning between myself and him. I love how he just says that, just throws it right out there, no hesitation. God, I love him.

"So?" she asks.

His eyes narrow, and he looks sideways at me. I shrug, I don't know what she wants.

"Oh! No, no, I'm not talking about a date. Is this your first time here? Don't you know who I am? I thought I've seen you around here before," she says. "Let me start over. I'm Charlotte Wood, I manage the bands and acts that come through. You're good," she looks down at her clipboard, "Edward. I want to see you perform again. If you can please the crowd again, you have a real damn shot of becoming a regular, if you're interested. Do you play anything other than the guitar? Are you in a band? I prefer you single, to be honest. Not like that, you two are adorable together, I just mean without the band. You make a great solo artist. So are you interested?"

We both stare at her, gobsmacked. Does she breathe? Edward simply asks, "What?"

I'm a little quicker on the draw. "Yes, yes he is. Thank you, Charlotte, it was wonderful meeting you, we'll see you next week."

With that, I shove his confused ass out the door before he can figure out what exactly just happened.

"Did you just get me a job?" he asks once we're in the car.

"No, but you could get yourself one if you show up next week and sing again."

He's silent for a few minutes, then he asks, "Did she say that I could be a regular?"

I nod my head. "Yeah, baby, if you wanted to be."

"Those bands get paid a lot of money to do gigs at Rogue's. They would pay me, to sing?" he asks.

"Yeah, babe, they would."

"Wow," he breathes.

He's so fucking out of it, it's not even funny. He looks like he just stepped into some alternate universe, where someone pays him to do what he loves.

"Do you think I can do it? I mean, I was so fucking nervous, I couldn't even see you, I thought I was going to suck. Jesus, I nearly barfed up there seeing you down there looking at me like that."

"Of course you can do it, Edward. You can do anything you want to. You have a great voice and an amazing talent. If you want to do it, you should do it."

He swallows and turns to face me, and I can't look at him until I've parked the car in the driveway, then I turn to face him.

"Jas, thank you, for making me. Fuck you, because it was mean, I didn't want to do it, but thanks. I love you."

I laugh and punch him lightly in the arm. "What are boyfriends for, eh?"

"Mm, good question. I rather like mine when he's blowing and rimming me, but otherwise, he's kind of annoying."

I glare at him halfheartedly because I know he's joking and get out of the car. He chases me up the steps and pushes me up against the door. "You can forget about me licking your ass tonight, baby, have fun masturbating because after that, you don't get a piece of me."

He chuckles at my words and steps up fully against me. "I guess I'm just going to have to apologize and grovel, huh? I don't think I'll live without a piece of you, and I really want my ass licked. I need my cock in your mouth, Jasper."

Damn him. Damn him and his stupid green eyes and his fucking dirty mouth. I can't even pretend to be mad at him anymore―unless I really, really want something, of course. I don't really want to be mad at him right now.

"You were so beautiful up there with your guitar," I sigh.

He rolls his eyes, but smiles at me. "Thanks."

It's not what I expected, I thought he'd go all 'shut up, you fuckity fucktard, you couldn't even see me' on my ass. Maybe he's accepting his gift.

"I'll show you thanks," I mutter, kissing him.

He starts laughing into my mouth and pulls away. "That was the cheesiest fucking line I've ever heard, Jasper."

It was, but Jesus, did he really have to stop kissing me to tell me that? "Go let your puppy out," I tell him, unlocking and opening the door.

He makes a show of prancing like a fucking princess then bending over with his ass in the air, wiggling it back and forth. Bastard.

"Come on, Calla, wake your lazy ass up, your daddies need to bone," he says gruffly to the poor dog.

I chuckle and slap his ass as he passes me.

I strip and jump in the shower quickly to wash away the smell of the bar and he joins me, toothbrush in mouth. He knows I hate the taste of beer on his tongue. He's such a good boy.

The toothbrush ends up on the shower floor and minty mouths mingle as the water beats down on us. We really need to stop wasting so much water.

I reach behind me and shut it off and he pushes me out of the shower, dripping water all over the floor while he attempts to dry me off with one quick swipe.

He's so impatient. He drops down to his knees and takes me into his mouth, making me hum contentedly as I watch him give me everything he's got. I hit the back of his throat and he closes his eyes, barely gagging. He takes a few breaths and relaxes himself then works me into his throat, still gagging. He can't help it, he's just a gagger. The gagging feels fucking good though, but I know he can only take so much.

I grip his hair and slowly pull out of his mouth with a loud 'pop'. He grins as I chuckle. "Let's go to bed, baby."

He nods and stands and I slip my fingers between his ass cheeks as he walks. He looks over his shoulder at me and bites his lip as I continue to chuckle and touch the most intimate part of his body. I push him down onto the bed and climb over him, spreading his ass cheeks apart and going in tongue first.

I swear to God, the sound that comes out of his mouth makes it worth it. It's not that it tastes bad or anything, it doesn't, it's tang and man and it's not bad. I just don't get it. I like fingers and cock up my ass, tongue just isn't enough for me, I guess. But Edward loves it when I lick him, so I do that and tease the rim until he's begging for something in him, anything.

Boner sniffer is on the floor glaring at me, but she's easy to ignore when my boy is clutching at the bed and pushing his ass in my face. I grab the lube and he flips onto his back, spreading his legs for me. Always so eager.

As finger after finger slides into him and his cock enters my throat, he gets alarmingly still and quiet. I look up at him and pull off of him when I see the look on his face.

"What's wrong, babe?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing. I just... Jas, I want you to make love to me, tonight. Please."

He looks worried and I'm not sure if it's because he thinks I'll say no or because he's still concerned that something will go wrong. Either way, I want to soothe him.

He's plenty ready for me so I pull my fingers out of him and he shudders at the loss, looking at me like I might tell him 'no'.

"You don't have to say please, baby," I tell him, leaning down to kiss him.

He moans and starts to breathe heavily into my kiss and I know he's nervous. I don't want him to be nervous, but I don't think there's anything I can do about it. It's scary your first time, I think, no matter what.

"How do you want to do it?" I ask him, looking into his eyes.

"I don't know, what's easiest? Like this?"

I shrug. "Flat on your stomach leaves the muscles most relaxed." He shakes his head 'no' to that immediately, and I understand why, I think I scared him for life of fucking from behind with how I freaked out. "You on top and riding is best if you're worried about me going too hard or too deep, too fast. You can't relax as easily that way though."

"I trust you," he says.

"Like this then?" He nods. "Okay." I lean down and kiss him then get a condom on and coat myself with lube. "You can tell me to stop, baby, just remember that."

I really needn't have told him that, because as soon as I'm settled over the top of him, right after asking him if he was ready, to which he nodded 'yes', he begged me to stop, and I hadn't even touched him yet.

His face turns pure red when he sees my questioning look and he closes his eyes tight. I don't say anything, I don't tell him we don't have to or that it's fine if we wait. He knows that already, and frankly, I don't want to talk him out of this. I want this, we're ready, he's more than ready. He's just scared, and that's okay. It's another risk for him to take, and if he can't do it tonight, then he can't. But if he can, I'll make his chance worth it.

He squirms and gets a frustrated look on his face and demands that I just do and ignore him. He gets a pointed look for that one and apologizes and continues to freak out. I just wait. I have all the time in the world.

Eventually he sighs and looks up at me. "Okay, baby. I'm ready."

I nod and kiss him and resettle myself, lining up with his entrance. He takes several deep breaths, but still manages to gasp and tighten up the second I touch him. He starts over with the deep breaths and I take my time kissing around his face until his relaxed again and he nods. I slowly push forward and he squeaks and tightens, and I wait.

"Maybe I should take the edge off for you first?" I ask. "It might be easier if I make you cum, relax you a little."

"Okay," he says.

So I settle between his legs again and work my fingers into his clenching ass. He's nervous, more nervous than he's been in a long time so it takes some time until I can even get two fingers in him, but then I'm brushing against his prostate and he turns to jelly and I can get a third finger in again. He cums pretty quickly, shooting down my throat with gasping moans.

He's still relaxed and trembling when I make my way to his mouth and he kisses me despite the taste of his cum on my tongue. I keep two fingers in him and he's calm as I work those two fingers in and out, in and out, and he's still calm when I take the fingers out of him and replace them with my cock. He's still calm as I pass the widest part of my cock through the tightest part of his ass. And then suddenly he's not calm.

"Holy mother of fuck, Jasper, your cock is in my ass," he gasps, and his whole body gives a jerk.

I stare at him blankly and his face goes pure red again. I can't help it, I start laughing and he groans and tells me to shut up but I'm laughing so fucking hard it hurts. I press my face into his neck, trying to suppress the laughter, but it doesn't work. Jokingly, he shoves my face harder into his neck, cutting off my air supply, but the air coming out of my mouth makes a farting noise against his skin which only makes me laugh harder.

"Come on, Jasper, we're supposed to be having sex here," Edward grumbles.

"I know," I wheeze, still laughing.

"Wow, this is a great first time," he mumbles sarcastically. "So fucking glad I amuse you."

I can't even breathe and I sit up some, trying to get composure but the look on his face fucking kills me and I lose it again.

"You're a fucking prick. You can forget getting a piece of my ass," he snaps at me, shoving on my chest.

"No, baby, come on," I manage, gasping for air through my laughter. "Fuck. Edward. I'm not laughing at you!"

"It sure fucking feels like you are," he hisses, shoving me harder.

I cling to his thighs, trying desperately to keep my cock in his ass. I want to fucking do this, but I can't stop laughing, because his face... Oh my fucking God, his face is so priceless.

"Baby, please, lighten up, it was funny."

He smacks my arm then shoves my chest and I lean back some to get out of his reach partway. He's so feisty sometimes. My dick slide further into his ass as I resituate and his body kind of tremors while mine freezes, my eyes immediately moving down to where I'm halfway inside of his body.

"Fuck, my dick is in your ass," I whisper.

"Yeah, I fucking know! And it's not funny," he says angrily.

I try to be serious, really, I do, but I snort and start laughing again.

Edward's jaw does the super bulgy rigid thing it always does when he's really pissed and his nostrils even flare, then he leans his head back into the bed and he just goes still. Completely still.

Yeah, that shuts me up.

"Oh, baby, come on," I beg. He doesn't respond, he ignores me, while my dick is in his ass. "You have to be able to laugh while having sex, babe, otherwise it's just not right."

Nothing. This is his form of the silent treatment and it's kind of fucking hilarious and I want to laugh at him some more, but I feel bad now. I probably would be pissed too if I were in his place.

"Do you want me to stop?" I ask regretfully. He ignores me. "I ruined your first time, love, I'm sorry. Please look at me, tell me to go fuck myself, anything."

He says nothing so I move to start pulling out and his legs cinch tight around my ass, holding me in place.

Well, well. Someone is paying more attention than they are letting on.

Guess this means I have to work for my redemption.

I lean down and kiss his tense jaw while he remains stoic. "God, your ass is so tight," I moan, right into his ear. I smirk when I see his throat bob. "Feels so fucking good," I growl into the skin where his neck connects to his shoulder. He inhales sharply as I sink my teeth into him there lightly.

I think to myself,  _Yeah, this is going to be a cakewalk_.

I move my mouth lower and kiss his nipple then take it into my mouth, swirling and flicking my tongue, then moving to the other. I nibble lightly at first and slowly add more pressure until I hear the sound of a muffled cry in his mouth.

I sit back on my haunches and again look at where our bodies are connected. I'm not even halfway in, but I've never seen anything hotter in my life.

My cock is in his ass.

Christ, now I do feel really bad for laughing at him.

At least I know how to make it up to him.

Very slowly, I start to ghost my fingertips over his thighs. Up and down, slow and soft. Goosebumps cover the skin of his thighs and I continue, tickling with my blunt nails, then with the pads of my fingers. His cock is already straining and hard, but I want him unbearably aroused. I want him mindless, like he makes me. I want him completely at my mercy, begging, ready to explode.

So softly, I trail my fingers up to the dips on either side of his cock. His cock jerks and his mouth opens slightly before he quickly closes it again, lips tight. Fucking stubborn little shit.

I trace his 'V' and his hips several times, traveling as far north as the drip of pre-cum on his abs. His stomach tightens under my touch and I smear the slight wetness down. Slowly, I move my fingers lower, to the thin trail of hair, then I brush my fingers through his pubic hair, just barely touching the base of his cock. Further down, I nudge his balls with my knuckles then tease over the skin below them.

I pull my hand away and he continues to breathe heavily.

Will he or won't he?

He will.

He tilts his chin down and meets my eyes, silently asking for more. I don't look away from his eyes as I place my hand back on his thigh and blindly trace toward his cock. I drag one lone finger up his length, dipping into the slit at the tip to gather the wetness there. Eyes never leaving his, I bring my finger to my mouth and he doesn't blink as I suck away the fluid.

I place both of my hands at his knees and again slowly start to descend, this time letting them meet in the middle. I tuck my thumbs under his balls and push downward, not stopping until my thumbs are at my own dick and I lightly trace the edge of where he is stretched around me.

"Oh, God," he breathes.

That's right.

He's completely ready to be fucked.

I press my hips forward and start to slide in without much resistance. He widens his legs and shudders, trying like hell to keep his head up to look at me.

I don't want him to have to think, so I drop my eyes to my fingers on his taut skin, breaking the gaze for him.

As my thighs meet his, buried to the hilt, he moans long and low, using his feet for leverage as he grinds against me.

That's my boy.

"Feels so fucking good," I tell him again.

He whimpers a 'yes' in return.

I lean down over him and he wraps his legs around my thighs, rocking his ass on my dick, and thus grinding his dick into my stomach. I'm not going to be able to stay like this or he's going to fucking cum right away. But I have to kiss him.

I kiss his chin first, asking permission since I know he might still be mad at me, but he doesn't hesitate, greedily kissing me, sucking at my lips and thrusting his tongue into my mouth.

"Oh, God, Jasper," he groans.

He ain't seen nothing yet.

With a parting kiss, I sit back on my haunches and unwrap his thighs from me, keeping one in each hand as I pull out then thrust back in.

His head whips up off the bed and he stares at me as I do it again, fucking him. He watches as I again and again thrust into him, then I tilt my hips and pray my fucking aim is still as good as it ever was and he sobs and falls back to the bed as I trust forward and hit his prostate. It seems I haven't forgotten.

I keep up the new angle and he writhes on the bed, twisting and arching and making the best fucking sounds I've ever heard. His hands reach for his cock, but I don't let him.

I think he expected as much because instead of getting angry, he just grips onto my hands for dear life and lets me have my way.

And have my way I do. Occasionally I free up one of my hands to give him a few hard strokes, and every time his toes curl, and he gets all expectant, and makes his 'almost there' face, then I back off and hold his hand again and put everything I have into fucking him. I know the minute he cums, I'm going to too. There's no way in hell I'll last through watching him lose it, feeling him orgasm on me. Fuck, the thought of watching him cum all over my hand while I fuck him deep and feel him pulse around me, that shit is good enough to damn near get me off.

"Oh, fuck yes, Jasper, please, please," he begs.

Calla snuffles around on the floor and I'm distracted for about five seconds too long and Edward is moaning at the top of his lungs. He yanks me down to him and my hand is trapped between us on his cock, and he never stops moaning as he attempts to kiss me and I continue to fuck him.

He's going to cum.

"Fuck, fuck, Jas, gonna cum," he confirms with a shout.

His legs lock down tight around the backs of my legs, pinning me to him as he moans louder and louder and I put all the strength I have into pulling out and slamming back into him.

Once. He clamps down on me.

Twice. His cock somehow grows harder between us.

Thrice. His entire body goes still and his mouth drops open but no sound comes out.

He erupts, quite literally. His cock gushes wet warmth over our stomach and his muscles throb hard and fast as he cums. I hear nothing as I pulse inside of him and I'm not sure if he's gone silent or if I've just gone deaf. It feels so fucking good to cum inside of him, but my orgasm is frankly overshadowed by his. I know exactly what he's feeling and I'm so fucking proud I gave that to him. I did that.

Sound comes roaring back with a loud gasp of breath from Edward. I take my dick out of him though he's still clenching and he whimpers at the loss. He came so fucking much we're both smeared with it up to our chests and some is threatening to run down onto my bed so I quickly grab tissues and start cleaning up the both of us, ridding myself of the condom while I'm at it.

Edward mumbles something that sounds vaguely like, "I fucking love you and your fucking skills."

He rolls over and grabs onto a pillow, curling his arms around it.

I smirk and shake my head, sliding in beside him.

"I love you," I whisper, kissing his pouty lips.

He mumbles again and throws his arm over my back.

"I love you," I repeat.

–

I wake up to a shift of the bed and I roll over in search of Edward's missing warmth. I crack an eye as I hear him groan and I feel equal parts amused and sympathetic as he grimaces and clutches at his ass.

Poor boy.

He mouths, "Ow," silently and his eyebrows knit together.

He catches me watching him then and his face goes red.

I smile lightly and slide from under the covers, walking straight to him, and kiss him lightly before I take one of his hands and lead him to the bathroom.

I start the tub and he gratefully steps in, sinking into the warm water. Calla whines at the bathroom door and I tell Edward I'll be right back as I take Calla out.

He looks asleep when I return and the only thing that tells me he's not is the way his lips quirk up at the corners when he hears me enter.

Neither of us say a word as he watches me rummage around in the bathroom cupboard. I break the silence by saying, "Put this on after you dry off."

He eyes the tube curiously then tosses it away in horror.

I laugh and reach behind me to pat Calla's head as she follows me out of the bathroom, leaving Edward to his hot bath and ass cream.


	17. Epilogue

In just a year's time, everything seems to have changed.

Edward Senior had a heart attack and died, which meant Edward was free to go back to Carlisle and Esme. He inherited his half of the Cullen fortune, thanks to Carlisle. Technically, he didn't  _really_  inherit anything, Carlisle just made sure he got his fair share.

Which made Edward fucking rich.

As soon as he was off of his leash, we flew down to Texas together and he met my parents and he met his mother.

My parents were as supportive as they could be, I suppose. They loved Edward―who wouldn't?―and he fit in pretty well. My parents just have a hard time accepting the fact that there won't be a Mrs. Jasper Whitlock and a herd of half-mes. They never really understood  _how_  I was gay; explaining that vagina made me nauseous wasn't exactly my top priority so I just let them continue to be confused. They accepted Edward for who he was and what we were together, and that was all I really could ask for, even if they didn't fully understand.

Edward's mother was another story. I made him promise not to bring me up or mention the fact that he was gay, not right away. The very last thing I wanted was for him to lose his mom immediately because she couldn't wrap her head around having a bisexual son who was in love with a man. Does he ever listen to me though?

Of fucking course not. The blank look on his face when he walked back into the hotel room broke my heart and told me the whole story. I went to him and wrapped him up in my arms and kissed him and told him over and over that I loved him and that he needed to remember that, I would always love him.

He took me to the bed and sat me down on it, looking directly in to my eyes as he said, "I don't think we should date anymore. It doesn't sound right when I tell people that you're my boyfriend."

I remember thinking that I had to be hearing him wrong, I had to. There was no way he was saying what I thought he was saying. He didn't mean it, not that... Oh God. "W-what?" I stuttered.

"I don't like telling people that you're my boyfriend, it just... It doesn't sound right at all, Jasper. Neither does saying that we're dating, I don't want to tell people we're dating. I don't want to date you anymore, I don't want to be your  _boyfriend_."

"Why?" I cried, growing quickly hysterical.

He dropped down into a crouch in front of me, looking almost patronizingly as he took my hands in his. "Because it's not enough for me anymore, Jas. I want more, I need more."

I remember the burn of the tears, the twist in my heart and in my gut. Oh, fucking God, it hurt. "I'm not enough for you," I repeated back to him quietly, brokenly, turning my head away so he couldn't see that he was killing me.

How the fuck could he do this? Now! Here! How was... What... Why?

"That's... no! Jas, are you... Jasper, are you crying? I haven't even got to the good part yet!" he said excitedly.

I remember wondering just how much he was like his father. Did he get off on this, hurting people, hurting me? He was ripping my fucking heart out and he was... laughing? What the fuck was wrong with him?

"Wait, Jas, why aren't you looking at me? Jasper, what's wrong?"

"What the fuck do you mean what's wrong? I love you and you're telling me we're not supposed to be together anymore, suddenly I'm not good enough to be your boyfriend and you're too good to date me!" I yelled.

And his face went pure white, sickly, and he grimaced. "Oh Jesus," he muttered, looking at the ground.

That was when I started to wonder if maybe, just maybe that I was mistaken and he used the wrong words―again. Because he looked humiliated and terrified and not at all excited like he'd been before. He was no longer crouching, but down on one knee, in front of me, something... something in his hand.

I started to wonder, why he was on his knee like that, because he had been crouching before and there was really only one reason for him to be kneeling like that in front of me.

Oh, fuck. "Were you just going to propose?" I asked confusedly.

He simply set the ring box on my knee and kept his head bowed forward.

I didn't open the box, I just sighed and put my hand in his hair. "Oh, Edward."

"Why do I have to ruin everything?" he asked. "Why, just once, can't I fucking do this the right way? This was supposed to be sweet and... God, Jasper, I'm so fucking sorry," he groaned, leaning his face into my knees.

"Shh," I urged, then I gripped his hair and stood up, bringing him up with me.

I shoved the ring box back into his pocket and his eyes went wide and uncertain, frightened as I pressed him backwards, further and further until he was outside the door again. Then I closed it in his face. The tables were turned on him and he was definitely the one who's heart was twisting and racing, he was the one who probably felt like he was going to throw up all over the fucking place.

"Jasper, please, baby, I'm―"

"Edward, you're back!" I said cheerily, pulling the door open. "How did it go? Is your mom awesome?"

His brow wrinkled and he looked utterly fucking confused and I raised my eyebrows at him, trying to get him to move on, forget the ridiculous almost-proposal he just fucked up royally. Forget it happened and try again, do it right.

"Um. It went good," he said slowly. "She's like I remembered, I guess."

"Tell me all about her," I gushed happily, dragging him inside.

We sat and he talked about his mom for a long time. His hand kept nervously reaching for the ring box in his pocket and my eyes would follow his movement every time. Finally, the conversation started to sway.

"I didn't even realize I'd said it until she reached forward and patted me on the cheek. She said, 'We call them guy friends down here, sweetie, you may want to be careful with the term 'boyfriend' or someone is going to assume you're dating a boy.' I was going to take your advice, but shit, Jas, you were on my mind constantly, you always are. It's fucking impossible to keep you a secret, especially when I don't want to. So I told her, 'Mom, his name is Jasper, and he is my boyfriend.' She thought I was misspeaking again. She kept patting me in a mothering type of way that made me feel five years old, like I didn't know what that word meant.

"I think she just wanted to believe that she had to explain it or something, like I was still a kid who needed stuff explained. I don't think she was really denying the possibility that I'm gay, but maybe. I don't know, Jas, but either way, I kind of..." he trailed off, grimacing.

"Oh no," I gasped.

"Yeah."

I started laughing and he glared at me in a way that just made me laugh harder. "What did you say?"

"I told her if she patted me like a five year old again I would have to sit on the other side of the room because I couldn't take that shit anymore. Then I told her that I knew what boyfriends are and that she needed to look up the term 'dating' because it meant the same thing everywhere. I told her that I'm  _gay_ , that I love you, and that we sleep together, just like every other  _couple_ , and that even though you're my _friend_ , my best friend, you're my boyfriend. I might have used the word  _lover_  a few times, and I might have told her that if she couldn't accept the fact that you and I are together then she would just have to forget that my visit ever happened."

"Oh no, Edward," I said.

"It's not funny."

I was trying really hard not to laugh. I was, really. But I could tell now that everything had turned out okay in the end, because that blankness from before was a façade so he could propose and not give it away, but he'd screwed that up quite well. I could see his own amusement wanting to come out, but I held in my laughs as I tucked him under my chin and rocked him. "Of course it's not funny," I agreed.

He continued then, telling me how she took a few minutes to absorb that and then everything shifted completely and I guess they spent the rest of their time talking about me. Which apparently led Edward to the conclusion that 'boyfriend' and 'dating' we no longer two words we should use to describe ourselves.

He told me how much his mom wanted to meet me and how I sounded 'perfect.' I seemed to already have the mother's stamp of approval. Edward slid away from me again, kneeling before me on the floor. He started by admitting to having the rings since a month before the trip. He said he'd been waiting for a while to propose because he knew he was going to fuck it up, and he really hadn't wanted to do that.

The second time around, his proposal actually worked and there was no confusion about whether he was breaking up with me or asking me to marry him. I said yes wholeheartedly and we were well into the morning hours before we finished making love.

Looking back, I wouldn't change the proposal for the world. It was just  _so_  fucking Edward. He wasn't perfect, he never would be, and there are still times when he says the absolute wrong thing at the worst time possible, but we get through it. It's definitely made me stronger and taught me to not freak out right away, and it's taught him to fucking just stop for a moment and  _think_!

We spent a few days with his mom before we had to fly home and she was really pretty great―and unsurprisingly really pretty. Edward looked so much like her, especially when they laughed. And God, did it make me happy to see them together, laughing. The three of us got along great and she was incredibly supportive, even if it was just because she didn't want to risk losing her son.

She lives in Seattle now, to be closer to us. And she's even met someone that Edward approves of. Of course, she also loves our Calla and Calla loves her back.

Stupid Washington won't let us get married, but we do have our 'everything but,' which unfortunately has to be enough for now. One day, we'll have our wedding and we'll say fuck you to injustice. We're fighting for it, for our rights, and I don't think I could possibly love Edward anymore than I do when I see him proudly going up on stage to sing in a 'No H8' shirt―then owns an Elton John song just to rub it in.

He calls me his husband and I do the same and our matching rings solidify it as much as rings can. We still get treated like shit occasionally, but Edward's quick to the draw, and quick tempered, and he usually gets the best of the bigoted assholes.

One day, he'll be my husband and those prejudiced fuckers can suck my dick because it's what they deserve, it's what we deserve.

Just thinking about it now really makes me want to go out into the Space Needle or something and make out with him like we're alone. I'm so sick of the hate, I just want to marry my Edward and stop being labeled as unnatural or whatever the fuck they're calling us these days.

Love is love.

Edward really,  _really_ isn't shy about being gay. I never expected him to embrace it quite so openly as he chose to, but I'm certainly not complaining. He just fucking loves to hold my hand in public, and kiss me in public, and stick his hands in my back pockets in public. Usually I'm pretty sure he's just looking for a fight, just begging someone to say something so he can go off on them. He's such a preacher. I really fucking adore him.

He has Carlisle on our side, helping us fight, and since Carlisle is now the head of the Cullen Firm, we basically have that whole practice agreeing that gays deserve rights too. It's not much in the long run, but it's definitely better than having them against us. It has to help.

Edward has dented his inheritance supporting the cause, and we both take time to do what we can. I feel so fucking guilty sometimes for not having done this sooner.

Edward also dented his inheritance by purchasing a house. A big house. With a pool. And Calla now has her own bedroom. And I have my own really fucking awesome art room. And Edward has his own composing room. And our bedroom is fucking huge.

It feels so fucking dirty to be so happy that someone died and made us rich, but I can't even bring myself to feel bad. I can't feel bad for that bastard who alienated his sons so completely that they didn't even cry when he died. Not one fucking tear from anyone at the funeral. Not even his bitch wife could fake a hint of sadness as they lowered him into the dirt, I think she actually fucking sneered.

All I could think was that I really hoped when I died, someone would cry for me. I never wanted to become like him, so hated, so disgustingly angry and resentful. But I didn't think that I would ever change that much.

A year really did change so much though, yet so little at the same time.

Even if Edward refuses to be my boyfriend, he's still mine and I am his. My husband, my other half, mine. I still can't be had, though I made an exception for Edward and he's still as straight as he was before, other than when he's being decidedly gay. He's my straight boy that I wouldn't trade for the fucking world, and I'm his bratty, dramatic gay boy that I know he's hopelessly in love with.

We've learned so much from each other, how to love and trust and live and be. I feel like I never really knew what it was to laugh until I met him, or cry, or anything. He changed everything. My life was altered completely the moment I first looked into his deep green eyes, whether I knew it at the time or not, and just like that I hadn't needed anything else. He's my air and my nourishment, my pulse and gravity. He's the things most important to my life, to me.

I couldn't possibly be happier than I am right here, right now, in his arms, where I intend to spend the rest of my night, my days, my life. I have him, and I don't  _really_ need anything else. He's the essential need and everything else is just materialistic. That won't change in a year, even if other things will.


	18. Smut-take

I've never really been all that big of a fan of Halloween. I think it's frankly fucking stupid, all the dressing up and scary shit, what's the fucking point? The only part I've ever really liked is the candy.

Thankfully, Edward and I are, for the most part, a united front on this issue... Or we were.

Emmett and Jake, however, seem to think Halloween is the best holiday ever created and somehow roped us into helping with some big fucking Halloween bash.

I want to kill myself. It's skeletons-this and zombies-that. Worst of all, Edward is getting all gothic on me and being morbid and weird, and I want to kill myself. Did I already mention that?

I will admit, our hard work paid off well, if you're into the whole horror, Halloween thing. And, of course, by 'our,' I mean their, because I didn't really help, I just bitched. But my bitching was productive, obviously, and the streamers I hung look phenomenal.

Emmett and Jake are quite horrendously matched as Adam and Adam, both wearing nothing more than a few well-placed fig leaves. Edward is apparently supposed to be a pilot or something, I don't really know, but he looks fuckhot in his jumpsuit and aviators. I'm ready to jump him right the fuck out of that suit, if you know what I mean.

I guess I didn't get the memo about being sexy for Halloween. I dressed up as a vampire, because I'm boring as fuck and I have no imagination. Edward assured me it was a classic and that I looked fine. Emmett disagrees wholeheartedly and has Edward off pouring fake blood on shit or something while he strips me, rather forcefully I might add, and against my will.

My cape and fake fangs were the first to go. Then when he was dissatisfied with what he could do with the rest of my outfit, my shirt and pants went too, while I fought him tooth and nail. His eyes lit up like it was suddenly Christmas morning when he got me in my undies.

"Oh, I have the best idea!" he exclaimed, staring at my package―which he was obviously mistaking for his present.

I screamed for Edward until my throat was raw, not that it mattered. Emmett strategically had music blaring already and no one could hear my tortured screams.

By my hand, Emmett dragged me into his closet and proceeded to dig around until he found these fugly as all hell leg warmers that were all fluffy and furry, then he put them on me.

"Why do you have these?" I screeched.

He just shrugged and pulled me into the bathroom. When he grabbed the bottle of baby oil, I thought I was fucked, literally, and I started to scream again. All I could imagine was being ass-raped by my psychotic once best friend while I wore hideous, itchy hairy things on my legs.

Emmett was unperturbed and remained jovial as he ever was as he basically squirted me in baby oil from head to toe.

Then the glitter came out.

I played dead.

You know how they say bullies stop getting off on torturing you when you don't respond? Yeah, that's not true. While I played dead, there was a shitload of glitter, eyeliner, mascara, and fucking lipstick too.

"Okay, all done!" Emmett says cheerfully.

I can't resist, I just have to see what he did to me. Hesitantly, I face the mirror.

"I look like a tranny!" I shriek at the image of myself.

"Bullshit, you look exactly like I wanted you too. You do realize they would hire you in a heartbeat down at Cuffs if they saw how hot I made you. You're a go-go deluxe, Jazzy. Oh my God, you even already have a stage name!"

I just stare at myself, horrified.

If I'm being completely honest, and not so dramatic, it's not that bad. There is makeup, sure, and the fluffy shit on my legs is just... wrong on so many levels, but in my skimpy little undies... Well, I look as slutty as Emmett and Jake do while still looking 'in costume.'

While I'm deciding whether I actually like the fact that I have makeup on or not, Emmett runs his hands through my hair a few times, breaking up some of the gel I had in it, making it fall more naturally, more sexily.

"Emmett, why do you have makeup and furry leg warmers?" I ask him cautiously, unsure I want the answer.

"Because I was waiting for the day that I could use them on you," he says with a smirk, then a really,  _really_ sharp smack to my almost bare ass. "Go find Edward and show him how pretty I made you," Emmett commands, shoving me away from the mirror to preen over himself.

The scary thing is that my makeup looks really good, like he knew what he was doing.

I shake my head sharply, dispelling those thoughts. I  _do not_  want to imagine Emmett in makeup and furry... anything.

I take one last glance at myself and decide to suck it up. If Halloween is all about being slutty, then fuck it, I'm going to look like a slut too. A glittery slut in red fur, but a slut no less. A go-go dancing slut, I guess.

I gulp in a deep breath and leave Emmett's bathroom to look for Edward so he can freak out before the other people start to arrive. He's pouring liquor into the punch when I find him, and stealing some for himself, which he hastily spits all over the place when he sees me.

"Jesus fucking mother of shit, what are you wearing?" he bellows, loudly, over the music. It's impressive.

"Underwear, baby oil, glitter, and hideous leg warmers," I say warily, taking a step toward him.

"Where the fuck did your cape and the rest of the clothes go? And why are you wearing makeup?"

"It's Halloween?" I try, my voice rises at the end, turning it into a question. I'm hoping that will be enough of a reason for him. I don't want to explain what just happened to me in Emmett's room. It's his fault anyway for not having super-hearing and rescuing me from the beast.

"Emmett," he growls.

I step forward and close the gap between us as much as I can without actually touching him. If I get too close, he'll be covered in glitter too.

Fucking Emmett.

"Look, I know I look like a slut, but that vampire shit was a drag, Edward, and you're all hot and I felt left out," I whine, sticking my bottom lip out at him.

"Every fucking person is going to try to get their hands on you tonight if you look like this," Edward mumbles, swiping his finger through some of the oil and glitter on my thigh and trailing upwards until his finger is under the leg cuff of my underwear. He'd be touching balls if he moved about two inches to the right, there really isn't much to these briefs at all.

"I doubt  _every_  person will be trying, there will be girls and straight guys here and I kind of scream 'gay' at the moment, so..."

He just cocks an eyebrow. "So every gay, bi, curious, or confused man that is here tonight will be trying to get his hands on you," Edward adds.

"I'm sure there won't be  _that_  many," I mutter.

Edward sighs. "Yeah, right. Did you have to wear these tonight?" he asks, tracing the lower band around to my ass. "Christ,  _I'm_  getting turned on and I know what's underneath." I smack him for that, glaring. "Ow! What? That was a compliment."

"That was not a compliment," I huff.

"Yes it was! You know what they say about leaving things to the imagination. You're leaving just enough to be imagined for all those fuckers who  _don't_ know and they're going to be drooling on you. I'm going to kill Emmett, then I'm going to kill every asshole who looks at you, then I'm going to disembowel and kill the ones who think they get to touch you," Edward warns.

"You know what? Whatever. I decided that I get to be hot tonight, so go kill people, I'm getting a drink."

Unfortunately, the drinks are right next to Edward and I don't get to strut away all fierce and shit.

"You were hot as a vampire," Edward insists.

"I was not."

"Yeah, you were all Tom Cruise vampire hot."

I grimace at him. "Tom Cruise is fug."

He frowns. "Really? I thought he was like... never mind. You do realize I'm very  _Top Gun_  right now?"

I turn to really look at him and grimace again, realizing, now that he pointed it out, it was the look he was going for. How fucking sad, we came to the Halloween party as Tom Cruise characters―though I had done so unintentionally. At least he looks ridiculously hot, though.

"You look hot, baby, I didn't, it wasn't fair. Besides, I'm not even the most scantily clad person in the house, and there are only four of us here so far. On top of that, you have nothing to worry about because even if everyone can look, you're the only one who can touch."

I punctuate my words by grabbing his hand and putting it on my ass, which he squeezes. "I'll kill them if they try."

I laugh and roll my eyes. "You should have come as an axe murderer or something, it would have been much more fitting."

Glitter be damned, he pulls me right up against him and we make out until the first guests start to arrive.

–

I want to kill myself.

There are like thirty people here and Emmett's house is packed. Not to mention, majority of the people here  _are_  gay and some of them are drunk and Edward is clinging to me like flies on stink, glaring at every last one of them.

The party is a fucking drag. Fuck, I'm  _in_ drag right now. At least it feels like I am. This baby oil feels disgusting and I want to go shower but Emmett made us promise to stay until the party was over so we could help clean up.

I  _so_ regret ever calling him a friend right now. He ruins everything.

Edward and I could be at home ignoring this stupid 'holiday,' sleeping, together, in my fluffy, soft, comfortable bed. Instead, I'm smashed between two drunk guys who think it is there job to find out just how thin I can get. I swear, if someone grinds just a  _little_  bit harder, I'm going to snap in half.

Edward is in the bathroom. I promised him no one would touch me. I'm apparently no match for two drunk guys who want to be the bread in a Jasper sandwich. Edward is  _so_ going to kill someone tonight.

When I spot him across the room, I flash him the universal 'help me' face and he rushes over, breaking the men's hold on me.

"Can't I leave you alone for two minutes?" he asks exasperatedly.

"No," I answer, clutching to his hand.

"Why don't you dance with me like that?"

"Did it look like I was dancing with them? Did it look like I had much of a choice?" I counter sharply.

He just sighs. "No, should I go back and kick their asses? You did at least tell them to stop?"

"Repeatedly. And didn't I already tell you you can't leave me alone? Kicking their asses would be detrimental since that would force you away from me again, then someone else would assume I want to be humped."

"Mm," he hums, pulling me closer. "Would it be wrong for  _me_  to assume you want to be humped?" he asks with a cheeky grin.

"Only by you," I say, sliding my arms around his neck and kissing him lightly.

When I pull back he grips my hips softly and just stands there like that, looking at me all expectantly. When I stare back questioningly he raises his eyebrows.

"What?" I ask.

"Dance," he instructs.

I scoff at him. "Yeah right. I don't dance, Edward, especially not on command."

"I've seen you dance," he replies amusedly. "As I recall you were the 'dancing queen.' Your words, love, not mine."

"Shut up. You're not allowed to bring up things that I've done while drunk. I don't dance," I say firmly.

"You know, I thought all gay men danced."

I roll my eyes at him. "Just like I'm sure you thought all gay men love Tom Cruise." He blushes and I laugh, shaking my head. "And I was positive all straight men scratched their balls and picked their asses in public."

"You scratch your balls in public more than I do."

"Exactly my point."

"Fine," he sighs.

"Fine what?" I prompt.

"You win."

"And what do I win?" I ask laughingly.

"Me. But also a dance lesson. With me. Right now," he replies adamantly, stepping closer and swaying slightly with the music.

"No. I'll take you, but fuck the dancing." He doesn't seem to understand that I'm not dancing as he attempts to make my hips move. "I'm not dancing," I tell him unwaveringly. His hands just grip my hips tighter and he steps in closer, nearly pressing his entire body against mine. "Stop it. I don't fucking dance."

"You dance with me," he replies calmly, yet still decisively.

"I am not dancing."

My voice sounds weak even to my own ears, and I think he knows that I'm going to fucking dance.

I hate dancing, I always have. I think it has something to do with my mom's sister, Marge, always shoving my face in her tits when I was younger and forcing me to dance with her. I think aunt Marge might actually be the reason I'm gay―well, that and the fact that I love cock.

But as Edward continues to softly move to the rhythm of the song, I can't help but wonder what it would feel like to be pressed up against him and move with the music. We fuck to music all the time, it'd be just like that. Fucking with our clothes on, in front of a bunch of people.

"I don't want to dance, Edward," I try one last time, feebly. I'm betting he can taste his victory.

"Why don't you want to dance with me, baby?" he asks back.

"That's not what I said," I mumble, though I know damn well he knows that I didn't say that, he just wants me to feel bad so then I have to dance with him.

"Please, Jas," he begs, looking every bit as earnest as he sounds.

I huff at the unfairness and close my eyes in an effort to win this―though I'm suddenly reconsidering. How bad could it be to feel his fuckhot body pressed all up against me? Wrong question to ask, because I already know the answer to that and there's nothing bad about it. Besides, most of the people here are drunk and it's not like they'll be watching my really shitty dance skills anyway. Edward isn't drunk though, and he'll be watching, and feeling, but also guiding.

While my eyes are still closed, I feel his lips press lightly to mine, just the barest of kisses and it kills my resolve. I'm going to do this whether I want to or not and he's going to make damn sure of it.

With a defeated sigh, I wrap my arms around his neck, keeping my eyes closed for now. I feel him smiling as he kisses me again. He shifts our stance slightly, moving as close as he possibly can by stepping one of his legs between mine and pressing the length of his body to me.

The fabric of his jumpsuit is rough against my bare skin, but I can feel the heat of his body through the thin material and it sets me alight. The steady, quick throb of the music sets a pace that he matches as he starts to rock us with the beat.

I pull back from his kiss and bite my lip in embarrassment. I don't know what it is about dancing, but it feels so fucking uncomfortable to me. It's like my body can't find the right way to move with the music and everything feels awkward and out of place, and I just fucking hate it.

Edward lips move down to the sharpest part of my jaw, kissing and sucking at the point. I grit my teeth and move my head again, breaking his kiss. Not that he cares or anything, he just shoves his nose into my neck and breaths all heavy, bending me backwards slightly as he curves against me and keeps us moving.

My shaky hands unclasp from behind his neck and I move them down to his shoulders, trying to get into this. I can't. I just fucking can't. I'm not a dancer, so I move to push him back, but before I can, his hands slide down to my ass, squeezing and pulling me against him, hard. My fingers end up dug into his biceps as he continues to knead my butt cheeks through the thin barrier of my underwear. And fuck me if that doesn't feel good.

I groan and his fingers dig in extra hard and deep, touching me in places that aren't entirely appropriate for even  _this_  situation.

"Edward," I warn. He chuckles into my neck and does it again. "Stop it," I growl, shoving on his arm.

He surprises me when he reels backwards, I certainly didn't shove him  _that_ hard. My hold on him breaks and he lets go of me, and I stumbled backwards a step, not expecting his reaction. He turns away from me, leaving me wondering what the fuck is going on because he has no reason whatsoever to be a baby about me not letting him touch my asshole in public. Then he's backing up and pressed all up against me again, his hands reach behind my head, one clasping onto the back of my neck and the other grips onto my hair as he starts to writhe and sway against me.

I bow my head over his shoulder and just moan. His ass feels so good against me and I want to find a wall and fuck him like this against it. I want to watch how he'll squirm and move with my cock in his tight little ass. I want to hear the sounds he'll make. I want to see his skin naked for me and to watch the sweat bead at his nape and glide all the way down his toned back to meet between my thumbs at the base of his spine.

"Fuck," I groan. My dick is on a fast rise and seeing as I'm only wearing underwear, I'm not looking forward to sporting full wood.

"Dance," Edward replies, his voice husky―the way it sounds when he's horny.

I growl into his ear and nip at the skin of his lobe, and he shudders against me, clutching tightly at my hair and grinding his ass on me harder than before. I move my hands to his hips and pull him back even harder, probably leaving bruises on his pretty, slender hips. When he whimpers, I grasp onto the fabric covering his hips instead and pull it tight, rocking him against me harshly. This is the best dancing he's going to get from me.

The music stops suddenly and the lights go out, and everything goes quiet as everyone startles. The silence is oppressive, it's all there is. Silence. My breathing turns a whole different type of rapid as I feel panic start to set in.

I try to stifle my reaction, because I know this is just Emmett. It's just stupid fucking Emmett and his stupid fucking Halloween shit. It's stupid, nothing to be afraid of. Edward is right here, he's got me. This is stupid, absolutely nothing to start panicking about.

But then a blood-curdling scream pierces the silence, and I full-on panic.

Stupidly, I lose my balance in the pitch black darkness, feeling light headed from the sudden change in atmosphere, and I let go of Edward, stumbling backwards and tripping over something until I'm flat on my ass.

I was wrong before,  _now_  I'm full-on panicking.

There is another scream and this one sounds closer and everyone that was near us is either panicking with me or laughing.

A flash of light blinds me and I'm left in sudden blackness again, seeing stars and memories of bodily shapes around me.

I try to remind myself that this is stupid. It's not real, no one here is going to hurt me, it's just a joke. But it's useless. I'm terrified and I want Edward and I lost him and I'm going to fucking die.

Another scream and someone steps on my fingers and I cry out in pain. I need to get up. I have to get out of here. But I don't know which way is up or down, everything is black and I'm afraid to move. I need Edward and I need him now.

This is why I don't like Halloween. I fucking hate scary movies and Halloween is like one big scary fucking movie that I can't escape from. I don't do this shit for a reason, I can't fucking handle it, and I'm going to die from my panic attack before the murderer who cut the lights can even get to me.

 _There is no murderer. You're not going to die. It's just a joke_ , I continue to remind myself, but again it doesn't matter.

Screams, this time from all around me, practically deafen me and the bright strobe of light blinds me again. My ears ring and my head spins and I barely hear it when someone calls my name.

"Edward," I whimper through a tight throat.

"You're all going to die," drawls a creepy voice, followed by horrifying sounds and screams.

I start crying hysterically. People are stepping on me and tripping over me but I'm paralyzed with fear. I want to die, I would rather than deal with this shit. I hate this choking-with-fear feeling and being immobilized, hardly able to breath with pure panic.

"Jasper. Jas. Jasper!" I hear called insistently.

I know it's Edward's voice, some part of me recognizes that, but I can't force myself to do anything. My lips are trembling too strongly for me to form words, my body is rigid and unresponsive, I can't do anything.

A small square of light illuminates not far off in the distance and I can see it. Even from a distance I can tell it's my savior, it's Edward's phone―I can see the stupid picture of me that he uses as his screensaver. But I still can't fucking move, I can't call for him. I can barely fucking breath and my body feels numb and disconnected from my brain.

"Jasper fucking Whitlock, answer me or so help me..." His call for me cuts off in a pained yell and I start to sob harder.

I'm such a fucking coward. Edward, my Edward, the love of my life is out there in pain, dying, and I can't move. I can't save him. We're going to die and I can't even fight for him.

The backlight on his phone fades and everything goes black again.

It's still dark, but I see Edward's face now. I'm positive I'm dead. I feel like I'm in some alternate universe and I think that this must be Heaven, it has to be, but that means my Edward is dead too. And there is still screaming and blackness and pain. So maybe this is Hell. But I don't know what Edward is doing in Hell. He's done some bad shit, but he's too good to be here.

I'm in his arms, maybe he's already an Angel and he's rescuing me from the Devil. That would be just like Edward, to save me from damnation.

The next thing I know, there is more light and it's quieter and Edward is in my face staring at me all anxiously. I hesitantly look around and I'm utterly confused as to why wherever we are looks like Emmett's bedroom. Heaven is more luxurious than Emmett's bedroom, surely. Hell... well, this could definitely be Hell.

I look at Edward again and frown at his distraught face. I reach up to scrub my thumb over a tear track. "Angels shouldn't cry," I tell him.

He gets a really confused look before relaxing immensely. "Oh, thank God," he breaths. He was never really the religious type, but I assume now that he's an angel, he has to be. "You fucking scared the shit out of me. You don't have a fucking clue how fucking badly it scares me when you do that stop-breathing panicky shit. I fucking thought I was going to have to call the paramedics, or worse."

I glower at him disapprovingly. "Angels shouldn't curse either." I'm shocked that dirty mouth made it past the Pearly Gates.

"I don't know what you're fucking talking about. I think you made yourself pass out on me twice. Are you okay? Should we go to the hospital? Jasper, you can't just fucking stop breathing, Christ. I was so fucking scared."

"Me too, but you saved me, even though I couldn't save you. I love you."

I lean into him and catch his lips with mine. I hope he won't be in too much trouble, angels kissing demons is probably pretty frowned upon.

"Easy, baby, just sit here," Edward instructs after he broke our kiss. "I love you too, and I'm so fucking sorry. I'll be right back, okay?"

He moves to stand up and I clutch onto him. "No, please, don't leave me," I beg.

"Shh, Jas, I'll be right back. I'm just going in there for a second, you'll be able to see me, I'll be right back, I promise."

He pries my fingers from his wrist and moves away from me. I have to let him go, I know I do, but I don't want to. He's moving toward the light, already, and I have so much I want to tell him.

I want to beg him to stay, but he has to move on, he has to go into the light to be with the other Angels and I'm stuck here in the dark.

I don't understand why when he moves onto the other side of the light, it looks like he's standing in Emmett's bathroom. I hear water run, and it's so fucking weird because he isn't disappearing. He comes back through the light and still he doesn't disappear and we're still in Emmett's room. Maybe we're ghosts and we have unfinished business... I have no fucking idea, I'm confused as fuck and my head hurts.

He brings a damp towel and kneels down beside me, slowly and gently wiping my face. "Jasper, you're really pale and I don't know what the fuck to do. I think maybe I should take you into the hospital."

"There's no point, sweetie, I'm already dead," I remind him, patting his leg reassuringly.

His face turns frighteningly white. "What?" he asks. "Jesus, Jasper, you're not dead!"

I go to prove him wrong on that one, only to be proven wrong myself when I find a nice strong rhythm beating through my veins. "Oh," I sigh.

"Are you disappointed?" he asks incredulously.

Am I?

No. Definitely not. I'm just catching up still. "I meant to say, oh, thank God," I breath, leaning back into the bed.

I'm not dead.

Well, that's a fucking relief. I rush at Edward, tackling him onto his back and kissing him like crazy. All I can think about is that I'm not dead, and how fucking exciting that is. And how much I hate Emmett. Then the lights come back on and Edward eases me off of him.

"What the fuck is with that light?" I ask confusedly, pointing at the seemingly floating illumination.

"It's Jake's fucking halogen camp lamp, or something." He then goes on to explain about how he'd known about the whole setup, about the horror screaming bullshit and how he had a key to Emmett's bedroom so he could get me away if he needed to, knowing I didn't like scary stuff. He hadn't expected me to freak out quite so badly, and he apologized repeatedly for letting go of me. He spent about ten minutes apologizing actually, for going along with one of Emmett's plans―because they knew if I found out about the whole thing, I wouldn't have come at all―for not paying attention to the time to warn me, for losing me, for how scared I was, for everything.

I just let him apologize. I was frankly still trying to get over the fact that I'm not dead. Plus, he did have a lot to apologize for.

About the time he starts winding down, Emmett starts pounding on the door saying everyone is gone and it's time to start cleaning up.

Edward finds my discarded clothing in Emmett's bathroom, and I spend the remainder of the night ignoring everyone and reflecting on my 'death,' though mostly I just concentrate on being livid. Edward bitches out Jake and Emmett and uses the phrases 'I told you this was a bad idea' and 'I told you I didn't want to do this' a lot. I only partially believe him since he went along with it, but I doubt I'll stay angry with him for long. Tonight's experience was eye-opening and I just want to love him. And maybe spank him a little because he was a very, very bad boy.

When we're finally ready to leave, Emmett just tells me to suck it up while Jake tries to hug me. I speak for the first time in an hour to tell them both to fuck themselves. Emmett laughs and says that's about as good as an 'I love you' coming from me, but Jake frowns and apologizes.

I walk out and Edward is right behind me. He attempts to do more apologizing of his own but I tell him to shut the fuck up and he takes on a different tactic, asking if I'm really okay because I  _did_ pass out twice. I'm fine though. The passing out is a throwback from my younger days. When I was a kid, I would hold my breath and make myself pass out when I was angry about something. Now, I've been known to do it while panicking. It's been a stressful night and right now I'm just really fucking tired from dying or not dying or whatever the fuck happened.

Once we're home, Edward takes Calla out while I strip and head straight for the shower. I turn the water on hot, needing to ease and cleanse myself of some of the trauma from tonight. I'm not in there long before Edward timidly peeks in and asks if he can come in.

I let him and he doesn't waste any more time apologizing with words. He kisses and caresses and tells me he loves me and I fall back into him and let him hold me for a long time before the shower starts to run cold. He looks so fucking miserable and regretful as he towel dries me that it practically breaks my heart and I try to kiss him better while he tries to continue to dry me off.

I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my fingers into his wet hair, breathing him in and feeling him against me before I lean in and kiss him again. He rubs the towel over my hair and my shoulders and down, down, down until I get fed up and rip it out of his hands and toss it on the ground. I just want to feel him, I don't give a fuck about being dry.

I place my hands back on him at his lower back and pull him closer, relieved when he finally responds with a sigh and bare hands on my torso. He groans deep in his throat when my hands move to his ass and squeeze. Then I remember that spanking he deserves and bring one of my hands back to smack his fleshy cheek.

He tenses and gasps at the contact, his cock gives a healthy lurch and I grin into our kiss, going back to massaging, satisfied with his reaction. The longer we kiss, the harder his cock gets between us and he ends up rigid and leaking first.

I pull my mouth away from his and keep our lower bodies firmly pressed together as I lift my hand to his mouth, raising my index finger toward his mouth. "Lick," I instruct.

He does, thoroughly wetting the lone digit, his eyes on mine the entire time. I can't resist swirling it around the head of his cock and he grunts at the cooling moisture. I drag my finger through his own moisture, smearing the precum along in attempt to gather it.

As I reach behind him again, I spread him apart, pressing and rubbing the damp finger against his tight hole. He bites his lip, muffling a moan and as I slip the very tip of my finger inside of him, his cock throbs between us tellingly.

Still, I want to hear it. "Tell me," I urge.

"I want you," he sighs hurriedly. "God, Jasper, I want you so fucking bad."

He opens his hooded eyes to me and the look he gives me speaks bounds. I lean in and kiss him with both of our eyes still open and locked. "Where do you want me?" I ask against his lips, unable to resist the prospect of hearing more.

He practically whimpers into my mouth as I move my finger to circle his rim. "There," he confirms.

I smirk against his lips, sliding my finger into him again, though still only slightly. "Here?" I ask.

"Yes," he breaths. I circle and drag and slide, teasing his eager, puckered flesh. "Please," he begs.

My insufficient lube is drying, and I have just enough wetness left to slide into him again. I do so as deep as I can with the little lubricant I have left and he groans. "It looks like you already have me there, baby," I tease.

"I want your cock. Please, Jasper."

Oh, yeah, that gets me hard. "You sure that cute little ass can take my big cock?" I ask him mischievously.

He slits his eyes open to give me a bit of an incredulous look before biting his lip, obviously deciding to play along. "I don't know, I'm awfully tight," he whispers.

"Mm, yes, you are," I moan, wiggling my finger.

"I want to feel your big cock stretching me."

Oh, fuck. I'm done for. "Your wish, my command," I mumble, easing my finger out of my him and guiding him by his hips to the bedroom.

He goes for the bed, but I stop him, turning him to face the wall. "Right here," I tell him.

I leave him there to get a condom and lube and while my back is turned, that little fucker settles right in and makes himself all 'fuck me' sexy against that wall. I nearly drop the lube, I do drop my jaw. He just smirks at me over his shoulder, wiggling his hips in invitation. As if being bent over and spread open isn't invitation enough.

"I could eat that," I confess.

He licks his lips and all but nods as he soundlessly screams 'please do.' I lean over him and bite into one of his cheeks first, earning another gasp and jerk. I lick my way down to his sac and he groans and reaches back for me as I tongue him there first.

With teasing light touch, I trail my fingers along the underside of his cock, to the taut ridge at the head and circling over of his frenulum, tonguing his balls all the while, and trailing back with my fingertips just as lightly. He shudders and squirms and whimpers and groans, getting louder and more forceful the higher my tongue moves.

I give him no warning at all as I quickly flick my pointed tongue over his entrance. His whole body jolts and his head hits the wall with a 'thud'; his following loud moan is enough to assure me he's okay. His fingers find my hair and he pulls my head to him strongly, barely allowing me a breath. I suck and lick at him, working my tongue into him as far as I possibly can until his cock is literally straining and dripping against my continuously passing fingers.

I don't think I can wait another second―I don't think he can either.

I grab the discarded lube and condom and quickly coat two fingers. He takes them both easily, knowing how to relax himself by now, though I still take it slow. I don't go for a third, I want him tight. I get the condom on―miraculously without tearing the fucking thing in half―and kiss my way up his back as I step into place behind him.

"Ready?" I whisper.

"God, yes," he insists, pressing back into my cock that is ready and poised at his entrance.

I slide in slowly, savoring every second of his tightness wrapping around me. It's simply the most un-fucking-believable feeling in the world.

"Goddamn, yes, fuck," he whimpers, scraping at the wall with his nails, looking for something to grip.

Completely seated into him, I reach past his hip and swirl my palm against the tip of his cock before catching it in a firm grip as I lean onto the wall with my other hand.

He calls my name loudly as I slowly start to pull out and push back in to him, stroking his cock as I do. He feels so fucking good, he looks fucking amazing, he sounds fucking incredible. I love the way he arches his back and the way he fucks himself on me, I love how hard and wet his cock gets when I'm in his ass, I love the things he says and the way he says them.

But I want a new position.

Edward makes sound of unadulterated displeasure as I stop my steady thrusts and release his cock. I wrap my arms around his torso and he leans up with me and follows as I back towards the bed. He makes all kinds of interesting sounds as my cock moves and shifts in his ass as we walk. Getting on the bed without slipping out is a bit of a challenge but we make it there.

Edward is in my lap with his legs spread wide over mine, his feet on the ledge of the bed frame. His back is leaned into my chest, his head thrown back on my shoulder, his hands fisted into the bedspread and used for leverage as he thrusts and rocks on me.

I kiss his shoulder and neck and ear, nuzzling into his hair as he moans and grinds all over my cock. "You look so sexy riding me like this," I whisper to him, reaching around again to take his cock in my hand. "I love watching you ride me, baby, it's the hottest fucking thing in the world. And like this, I can feel how deep my cock is inside of you."

"Fuck, Jasper," he cries tossing his head and clamping his knees around my legs.

"You like having my cock in you so deep?" I taunt, stroking his cock between my joined thumb and forefinger only. "Is that a no?" I ask, halting my movement when he doesn't answer.

"No. No. Yes, I love feeling your cock so deep. Just don't stop, please don't stop," he pleads.

"Never, baby," I assure him.

As I resume playing with his cock he gets all archy, squirmy, breathy and I grin, watching him fuck himself on me. "Are you going to cum?"

"Mm," he moans.

I take his cock completely in my fist and jerk him quickly, getting a desperate whine from him as he tries to keep fucking. I grip his hips with my free hand and aid his movement.

"Hm?" I prompt.

"Yes, yes!" he cries, bending his body further and bouncing hard.

"Yeah?" I encourage him.

"God, yes!" he yells.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'm cumming. Fuck," he moans deeply.

Turning his head into my neck, he bites down and grunts as he starts to spasm and thrash about, releasing all over my hand and his stomach and thighs. His teeth hurt like hell and there is going to be one nasty bruise there, but it's so worth it watching him lose all fucking sense of everything. I live for these moments. I love watching when his pleasure trumps all, I love being there to see his control slip right through the cracks, I love being the one who made it all happen.

"God!" he grunts into my ear, finally releasing my skin from his mouth.

"It's just Jasper, actually," I joke.

He groans in response and I smile, nosing my way into his thick hair. He pants and remains on my cock for several minutes and I imagine it has to hurt, I'm hard enough to cut glass and he has all his weight resting on me.

"I'm exhausted," he mumbles, angling his head to kiss my jaw.

"Mm, me too," I agree, kissing him loudly.

He squirms and frowns, pulling back. "You didn't cum."

"No." His frown deepens. "I was enjoying watching you."

"Obviously not enjoying it enough," he grumbles.

"I was enamored, couldn't pull my eyes away, and I was definitely more interested in getting you off than myself, it's so much more fun."

"Help me down." I shift and he jerks slightly, digging his nails into my thigh. "Jesus, I think your touching my ribs right now."

I laugh, nodding in agreement. "Told you I was deep, babe."

He takes a few deep breaths and we both work together to slide off of the bed and he carefully pulls off. My cock slips free with a loud smack on my belly, and then it stands there, begging.

"Well, that just won't do," Edward says, kneeling down and pulling the condom off.

"Just wait," I mumble, leaving him kneeling there to get washcloth. He gags enough the way it is, condom-flavored cock isn't going to help any.

I clean off and bring the cloth back for him to clean himself up, and he does so with one hand, the other moving to pull my skyward erection more horizontal. I lean back onto the bed, resting my palms flat and cocking my head to the side against my shoulder to watch him clean himself off while he... plays with my cock.

After the third time he let it spring back up, I gave him a stern look. "You can stop playing with my cock now."

He smirks up at me and tosses the washcloth away, taking my cock in one hand, my balls in the other, and putting half of my length straight into his mouth.

"Oh, fuck yeah, that's good," I moan, leaning back into the bed more heavily.

He pulls back and his tongue swirls and flicks along my most sensitive places and he stares up at me, moaning as he takes me in deeper. His fingers deftly rub and squeeze my nuts, his thumb on the other hand stroking incessantly along the thick vein on the underside of my cock.

"You going to let me cum in your mouth?" I ask with a grin, and shortened breath. His nose wrinkles and I laugh, reaching down to ruffle his hair. "Let me watch if you decide to, okay?"

He narrows his eyes, but doesn't stop sucking me, licking all the right places and doing everything he knows how to to get me off the quickest. My toes curl as he takes me in as far as he can, sucks hard and bobs along, his tongue pointed up.

I lose all coherency at that point and I moan mindlessly, watching him suck my cock. I don't bother to hold back when my orgasm starts to approach. I knot my fingers into his hair and thrust my hips as hard and deep as I dare―he's gotten so much better, but his throat is off limits.

"Fuck," I gasp, pulling back enough to slide my cock out of his mouth.

I quickly replace his mouth with my hand, and he shocks me by keeping his mouth open. I nearly let my eyes roll back in my head, the intensity of the orgasm increasing by a whole fucking lot knowing he's going to let me cum in his mouth. But fuck, this isn't something I can ever miss. I have to watch or there is just no fucking point.

"Oh, my fuck, yes. Edward," I moan, rubbing my cock against his offered tongue and watching greedily as my cum coats it and slides towards his throat.

I let him off the hook a bit though and only give him a little to swallow and blow the rest of my load all over his lips and chin. That's nice too.

I'm thoroughly fucking satisfied and completely knackered by the time my dick starts to wilt. I watch Edward swallow and hum contently.

Then he darts his tongue out and licks his lips and I full out moan, but feel incredibly guilty because I know why he's doing this.

"You're already forgiven for your major fuck up tonight so you can stop torturing yourself."

He sighs and tightly closes his lips, looking all adorably grateful and cum-covered.

"I fucking love you."

His lips twitch and he reaches for the washcloth. I laugh and pull back the covers, climbing in to wait for my Edward.

I really fucking hate Halloween and I'm incredibly glad I didn't die on this one.


	19. Emmett's POV Outtake

I'd met Jacob for the first time a year and four days ago today. It seemed odd that it had been that long already, yet almost as if it wasn't enough time at all. I felt like I'd known him my whole life, I just hadn't met him in person yet.

And today was our anniversary. I know, that sounds ridiculous. Anniversaries are supposed to be on one year marks, but Jake and I made an agreement that we wouldn't do anything for our anniversaries.

So we had let the first one pass, ignoring Jasper's shocked expression and Edward's annoyed eye roll. They were really ones to talk, though. They were barely twenty-five years old and they'd had dinner and stayed in all night like grandparents on their fiftieth. They probably even fucked like grandparents.

Okay, maybe not.

But still, they stayed in on their first anniversary, and Jacob and I did the same. The only difference was that we hadn't been acknowledging what day it was.

We heard  _all_  about how Edward had bought  _flowers_  and  _chocolates_ and a motherfucking stuffed animal. It was vomit-inducing, listening to Jasper brag about his perfect boyfriend and how perfectly perfect he was. Fucking gag me.

I bet you big fucking money Jasper cried over that shit.

Jacob and I treated the day like every other one. We were both perfectly aware of it, neither of us forgetting that day we met, we just... chose to live every day as our anniversary.

No, that's a sack of shit. We were both just too lazy and non-sentimental to act like a couple of fourteen-year-old girls.

We just did what we usually did.

We fucked. We showered. We ate breakfast. We went to work. Jake brought takeout home. I blew him under the table. We fell asleep on the couch watching a movie.

Best not-an-anniversary anniversary ever.

Except four days later we were both giving each other sideways glances and wondering: Did he forget?

Jake was the one to bring it up, as I stubbornly refused to say a word.

"You did remember, right?" he asked meekly, between bites of cereal.

I frowned at my own bowl and glanced up, only to catch him looking worried and unsure. Jake was never unsure. He was the surest man I'd ever met. He didn't really say much, but he was certain of everything he did say. He never doubted himself.

And it was a blow to the gut to realize that I could take that all away from him.

"Babe," I sighed, reaching across the table to grab his hand. "Of course I remembered. I wanted to say something, but you know, we agreed we wouldn't."

He nodded and squeezed my hand, but he wasn't my Jake yet. It was still bothering him, he was still hesitant.

"Fuck it," I decided. "Let's just do it tonight. Happy Anniversary, baby. We're going out."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Fuck yeah," I replied. "Let's just make this our thing. Four days after our anniversary is our new anniversary," I said with a grin.

The smile that broke across his face made my jeans go tight. He fucking beamed, and I desperately wanted to get fucked into the table when he smiled at me that way.

But we both had work and we'd been late enough times over the past year because of spontaneous fuckfests. I cleared my throat and took another bite of my cereal. "So, what do you want to do?" I asked, halfway through chewing my mouthful.

Jake kind of smirked at my poor manners and shrugged in answer. "Whatever you want."

I thought about it while I finished my breakfast. Jake spilled some milk on his shirt and hastily pulled it off, cursing a storm under his breath while I watched fixedly. He was going to be so late for work this morning, and I was so getting fucked into this table.

He knew it too. He saw my face and rolled his eyes amusedly.

"I know what we're doing tonight," I said calmly, taking both of our bowls to the sink.

"What's that?"

I didn't answer him vocally, instead I stripped off my work clothes while he watched, and then bent over the table.

We were both later than we'd ever been but what the fuck, it was our anniversary, we deserved it.

–

I called Jasper over my lunch break and told him that Jake and I had decided to go out for our anniversary after all, and that we wanted him and Edward to come with us to celebrate. I hadn't actually discussed that part with Jake, but the night was going to be a million times more amusing with those two along so I did it anyway. I highly doubted he would be upset about the new development.

Jasper was hesitant at first, but I managed to talk him into it, even though I never told him where exactly it was we were going to.

I met Jake at home, told him I was bringing the boys, and he laughed his ass off while I picked out our clothes. I knew he wouldn't be mad. I was practically giddy while I got ready, overly excited at the prospect of watching Edward react to our surroundings. This was going to be the best fucking night ever.

We picked them up in the Jeep and I had to bite my lip to keep from giggling at their nearly matching outfits. They really were worse than fourteen-year-old girls. And they were going to be such a fucking hit tonight.

I let Jake drive just so I could watch Jasper's reaction when he realized where we were. His eyes got big then he looked around a bit, then accusingly, he turned on me. When he caught me watching him, his face turned hilariously enraged.

"No!" he growled.

I just smiled angelically and nodded.

"No!" Jasper repeated, flailing his hands―and subsequently Edward's since he never fucking let go of it―in my direction. "We are not going in there."

I nodded again, grinning at Jake, who was all dimples and bright white teeth as he parked the car. God damn, I wanted to fuck him again. But that would come later.

"Where are we?" Edward asked, confused as he looked out the window, then at Jasper, and at me when Jasper continued to glare.

"Phallus," I answered indifferently. "Come on, Jake!"

"Phal― What?" Edward sputtered.

"It's a fucking all male strip club," Jasper yelled, throwing his hands around. "I'm going to fucking kill you, Em."

I flipped him the finger and slid out of the front seat, immediately reaching to open the back door. "Out," I demanded, pointing at Edward.

"Fuck you, we're not going in," Edward snapped.

"Really?" I asked. "Oh, I get it," I said, frowning at Edward. "Wow, shit, I'm such a douche, Edward, I wasn't even thinking." I placed my hand over my chest and widened my eyes sincerely.

"Well, that's a surprise," he muttered, but I didn't miss the way he was looking at me suspiciously.

"I'm sorry, bro. I didn't even take it into consideration. Sorry, Jazz. That must be a big blow to your ego, huh? Having a boyfriend who hates cock so much."

I slammed the door in Edward's face and turned to leave, grabbing Jake's hand.

"You're so bad," he laughed quietly.

"I know," I sighed, rubbing my thumb over his soft skin.

I knew it wouldn't take long for them to hash it out with each other and ultimately end up in the club. Edward was Edward, he hated being faced with a challenge. And Jasper was Jasper, he'd follow Edward's ass anywhere.

Jake and I were just nearing the front of the line when they were finally approaching. It hadn't taken them as long as I would have guessed; I thought Jasper would try to give Edward a blowjob or something to talk him out of it. Their heated whispers couldn't be heard over the beat of the music coming from inside, but I had to bite my lip to stop from laughing nonetheless. I could guess exactly what they were saying.

Edward was probably ranting about Jasper not being allowed to touch anyone, at anytime, under any circumstances. And Jasper was probably bitching about the fact that he hated me so much.

"There will be no lap dances," Edward said, fixing me with firm stare.

"Scared your boyfriend might like it?" I challenged.

"Fuck you," they both spat back at me.

I snorted. I was right, this was going to be the most amusing night ever. I grinned at Jake who was watching just as intently, a small smile hiding under his shade of indifference.

"I fucking hate you," Jasper whined.

I grinned wider and shrugged, nonplussed. Jasper saying he hated me was just his way of saying he truly loved me.

"I'm serious, there will be no fucking lap dances," Edward hissed at me, going so far as to raise his finger and  _point._  I was  _so, so_ intimidated.

I leaned forward and put his finger in my mouth before he could realize what I was doing and he jerked away, cursing a storm about how disgusting I was.

"I can't believe how insecure you both are still," I mumbled, turning away from them to face Jake, who was coolly leaned up against the building, looking all 'fuck me' hot.

He winked at me and I shoved my hands into my pockets to avoid shoving my hands in  _his_  pockets, or just into his pants. I wanted to  _touch_  and he knew it. Fucking tease.

"We're not insecure," Jasper bitched at me from behind.

"Right. That explains why you can't go into a strip club together."

"We can, we are," Jasper defended.

"Mhmm," I hummed. "And you're both being bitches about it. What's Edward going to do when you pop wood, Jazz?" I asked pointedly, glancing over my shoulder.

Edward looked over at Jasper, his face blanching slightly when Jasper didn't say he wasn't going to pop wood.

"See? Insecure. Edward, Jasper is going to get a boner. There are boys in there, yummy, mostly naked boys. He likes boys. Get over it."

"I know he likes boys, you idiot," Edward replied.

"Do you? Do you really get it?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, glaring.

"Then what is the problem? Jasper likes dick, you like Jasper's dick, why can't you just go into a little strip club without all the drama and enjoy yourselves?"

He had no reply for that, therefore I decided that I won. Jasper said nothing as he held onto Edward's hand and it was a little disconcerting that he wouldn't even defend his right to get wood over other boys. I was just so fucking glad that I had Jake who understood I liked to look and didn't get jealous about it.

He was still leaning against the building, waiting for the line to move and I said fuck it and shoved myself up against him. He chuckled and nuzzled his nose against mine before letting me kiss him and I sighed against his lips, melting into his warmth.

"Would you stop?" Jasper deadpanned in our direction and I flipped him the finger again before wrapping my arms around Jacob's neck.

His hair was silk under my fingers and I couldn't resist tugging on it a little, earning a quiet grunt that I doubted anyone but me could have heard.

"Stop being so sexy," I whispered against his lips.

He rumbled a deep chuckle and kissed me once more before whispering, "I can't help it," back at me.

Sliding my hands down over his rock hard chest, his ridged, toned stomach, down to the front of his jeans, I said, "No, I guess you can't."

"Move it along, boys!" called the voice that I recognized as the bouncer and I grudgingly pulled myself away from Jake.

There was no hesitance from the bouncer, he knew Jake and myself from previous visits, but he stopped and carded both Edward and Jasper. He also made a comment about them being twinks and Edward nearly lost his shit.

The night was already more fun than I'd ever imagined it would be. Jake and I waited for Jasper and Edward to catch up, mostly just to watch Edward's reaction to it all.

One of the regular dancer-slash-servers spotted us immediately and came over, hips swaying and fingers twirling.

"Boys!" he crooned, sidling over. "Jake, it's been a while."

"They know you by name?" I heard Edward mutter.

"Jake puts on a show every now and then," I explained over my shoulder. To my amusement, Edward's mouth fell open in shock. Jasper just narrowed his eyes and kept his jaw tight.

"Introductions!" demanded Greg.

I waggled my eyebrows at Jake and he sighed, no doubt knowing exactly what I planned on doing now. His sigh worried me momentarily and I wondered if maybe he wanted me to cool it, for us to just have a good time with each other here tonight. His lips quirked up at the corners though, giving away his amusement.

"Greg, these are our best friends, Jasper and Edward. They are both extremely curious about spicing up their sex life and want some demonstrations of the best moves the boys have to offer."

"What?" Edward yelled, eyes wide and fists clenched. "You fucking―"

"Excellent!" cheered Greg, clapping his hands enthusiastically.

"I'm going to kill you," Jasper warned, though his threat was a weak one, even for him.

Greg grabbed Jasper by the arm and led him forward while Edward glared threateningly. I slid my arm around Jake's shoulder and kissed his cheek, watching raptly as several heads turned to watch Greg take Jasper to the table in the corner, Edward following none too quietly behind.

Tonight's goal was to get Jasper as many lap dances as possible without Edward hitting anyone. And I hoped that maybe Edward would even give it a shot too. He really didn't know what he was missing. Some of these boys in here were grade A. Fucking perfect.

But still not nearly as good as my Jake.

I kissed his cheek again and he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close as we moved to sit at the same table as Edward and Jasper.

Greg got right to it, proclaiming loudly what he called his favorite moves before doing them. He talked the entire time he danced personally for us. I was trying hard not to laugh, but it was just altogether way too fucking funny.

Jasper was sitting there taking it all in stride, at least pretending not to be a complete asshole to a perfect stranger, but Edward was ready to lose his shit. His head kept jerking and I couldn't tell if he was looking away because he actually didn't like Greg or if he was looking away because he did like him.

So far, there had been no close contact or risqué touching, and I wondered if maybe Greg knew. He was a fairly perceptive man, it was probably good thing we ran into him immediately.

When the drinks began to flow, Jake and I sat back to watch the stage and the private show Greg was giving, and slowly but surely Edward seemed to calm down a little bit. He at least didn't look on the verge of a killing spree anymore. Jasper was completely uninterested in Greg's details about moves, but I couldn't help snickering into Jake's neck every time he looked away from his gyrating ass.

Edward maybe was just gay for Jasper, but Jasper was pretty much gay for everyone. Jasper loved ass more than any man rightly should. Even while he was in his whole teaching straight boys phase, he couldn't keep his eyes off of a nice ass―gay or not. Greg had a pretty decent ass, and he was shaking it around just for Jasper.

There was no doubt in my mind that Jasper was going to end up drunk off his ass and hard enough to cut glass before the night was through.

Greg shocked the shit out of me by practically jumping into Edward's lap. I held my breath, hoping like hell he wouldn't throw a punch, but he merely tensed and shot his arm out in Jasper's direction. Jasper grabbed his hand and Edward calmly asked Greg to stop.

Greg rolled his eyes in my direction and I motioned him over. Edward and Jasper began to talk in whispers as soon as Greg rounded to our side of the table and I regretted bringing them for the first time. The teenage girl shit was getting old. First with the matching clothes, and all the whispering, holding hands non-stop. It was frankly disgusting.

"So sorry about them, babe," I apologized.

Greg sighed and flopped himself across Jake and myself. "Whatever. I'm graced by your very presence, but please tell me you're going to put your beautiful ass on stage," Greg pleaded up at Jake.

Jake shook his head with a quiet chuckle. "Not tonight. Just here to... relax," he said decisively after a moment. His eyes darted to Edward and Jasper, and I was struck again with the regret.

Jasper and Edward would be entertaining and amusing, but they would also surely put a damper on our night.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, sticking my fingers under the band of Greg's spandex booty shorts. I pulled up and peeked and he laughed and shoved my hand away, squirming against Jake, who also laughed.

"I'll hold him down, you see what he's got," Jake said jokingly.

I grinned and shoved the wad of cash into his shorts before pulling them up again. "He stuffs!" I said jokingly, groping between his legs once before taking my hands off of him completely.

"I outta kick you boys out," he huffed at us.

"You outta, but you're not gonna," I replied.

"Only because Jake's going to come back and dance for us again," Greg quickly added.

Jake shrugged and I grinned at the prospect. Nothing was hotter than watching  _my_ man up on stage, stripping for a room full of strangers. They all wanted him and we both knew it, but they couldn't have him. He was mine.

"Go get Parker," I instructed Greg, patting his leg.

His face fell and his eyes darted to the other side of the table where Jasper and Edward continued their heated discussion. "Parker?" he asked. I nodded. "I don't think that's a good idea, he's not going to know how to handle the hothead."

"He'll be fine," I assured.

Greg released a long breath and sat up more in my lap than Jake's, looking me dead in the eye. "If he hits Parker, you're all in trouble. You know what's going to happen if our best boy gets a shiner."

I nodded. "Go get him."

Greg sighed and shook his head at me but got up and left nonetheless.

Greg was one of the many gay dancers in the club, and Parker was one of the few straight ones. He was beyond delicious, and I admittedly had a raging hard-on for him. Jake found that hilarious. Probably because he sort of looked like Jasper in a less skinny, more rugged man sort of way.

His hair was very similar and their facial structures were somewhat comparable, but really, that was about it. Parker was shorter and broader, Jasper practically had women's legs they were so long and lean. Parker was quiet and calm, but Greg was right, he wasn't very perceptive. I was counting on his looks and his ability to follow directions to get him through some time with us.

The similarities weren't really all that many, but the resemblance was still there and he was fucking smoking hot. I wanted to see Edward try to resist him.

So I handed him a wad of cash when he ambled over, and he asked if there was any special requests, and I whispered to him that he had to make the hothead cool down. Nothing more, nothing less.

He nodded and then did the exact opposite of what I wanted him to do. He went for Jasper and I cursed under my breath as he started to give him a very up close and personal lap dance.

Jasper asked him to back off, but Parker just turned around and rubbed his ass all over Jasper, finally settling down on his dick. Jasper bit his lip and looked in the opposite direction of Edward.

I nearly creamed myself. I knew exactly what it felt like to have that barely covered bubble butt right up against your denim covered crotch. If Jasper's restless movements were any sign at all, I'd say he was reacting just as I had.

And surprisingly Edward was right there with me, his mouth hanging open as he watched his boyfriend get ground on by his almost look-alike. I sighed with relief.

"I'm not buying you a dance on our anniversary," Jake whispered in my ear, breaking my thoughts.

I was satisfied that Edward wasn't going to kill anyone so I leaned into Jake, taking my eyes off of the show.

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to buy one for myself on our anniversary," I replied.

His gaze grew minutely darker and I leaned in closer, brushing my lips over his.

"I was hoping that I would get more than just a lap dance on our anniversary, actually. I was hoping you'd give me something even more valuable."

"I'm not paying for you to get sucked off in the fucking back either," he shot back, obviously getting a bit pissed off now.

"I was hoping for more than that too," I said.

I could practically hear his teeth grinding together. I knew I was pressing my luck, but sometimes, just sometimes, I liked to push Jake's buttons too. It usually took more than this to piss him off and make him jealous, but it was our anniversary and he thought I wanted someone else.

"I was hoping," I continued, mouth just centimeters away from his, "that when we got home, I'd get something special. I was hoping I would get to be naked as soon as we got home, just me, and then I would get my anniversary present."

He still didn't seem to get that my hope involved no one but him. "I want you to strip for me, at home, just us. I want to watch you, to feel you, to taste you. I want you to touch me and tease me, 'til I can't fucking take it anymore. Then I want you to fuck me, hard. I want you to fuck within an inch of my life."

He exhaled a long breath, and faintly, I thought I heard him say, "Oh."

I kissed him long and hard then, pressing my tongue as deep into his mouth as it would go and pushing so firmly against him that our teeth were cutting into our lips.

His hands shoving hard on my pecs forced me to back up, and we broke apart with gasps, both of us short of breath.

"Fuck," he whispered.

I laughed breathlessly and turned my head to check on the boys, only to realize there was only one boy left standing there.

"Are you done?" Parker asked. I nodded, looking left and right for Edward and Jasper. "They left about five minutes ago, right as you two started eating each other's faces. They told me I had to wait here and tell you not to worry, they were taking a cab home."

He said nothing more before walking away. I tried not to stare at his ass too hard.

"So, are we staying?" Jake asked after sipping from his drink.

"Not unless you want to. I really only come here to see you."

He rolled his eyes at that and I chuckled and tossed back the rest of my drink―Jake was the designated driver, he hadn't even finished the one drink.

"Joking aside, I came for the entertainment value of watching Edward."

" _Right_ ," Jacob drew out. "And for Parker."

"Fuck off," I mumbled, standing up and stretching, purposely tilting my face-level hips in his direction.

"You think I don't know you're game? I don't forget that night we shared the stage," he continued amusedly. "You want his straight ass more than Jasper would have. I'll never forget the look on your face when you saw us ripping our clothes off each other."

"Stop," I grumbled. "Please just shut up."

I picked up my pace as I walked toward the Jeep, but Jake never had any problems keeping up with me, ever.

"I didn't really get why you wanted to leave right away after, I was supposed to do another act by myself, but you were so insistent we had to go  _right now_." He chuckled and I glared at him, yanking on the door handle repeatedly until he hit the unlock button at the right moment and my door finally popped open.

As soon as the Jeep rumbled to life, I cranked the radio so I wouldn't have to relive that humiliating night all over again. Of course, Jake just turned it right back down and leaned closer to my side of the car.

"Imagine my surprise when we got home and you were all over me. I'd never seen you that desperate. I helped you get your pants off, and I thought I was just warming you up with a couple licks, I didn't even have your shirt off yet and you busted the second I put your cock in my mouth."

I groaned at his words, caught somewhere between arousal and humiliation.

"You're always so controlled, you hadn't ever cum that quick before. I didn't really think about it at the time, I was just surprised. Then we got in the bedroom and you weren't even close to finished. You couldn't get my clothes off fast enough and your dick was hard as a rock. You practically begged me to finger you."

I knew what was coming next and drew in a few shaky breaths to prepare myself.

"You were clenching around just one finger the second I put it in you, and fuck, I thought something was wrong. I thought you were upset or something and couldn't relax. So I put your cock in my mouth again and wiggled my fingers just the way I know you like it."

He stopped there, but he didn't have to go on. I knew what happened. I fucking blew my load again, a whole two seconds in.

"That shocked me more than the first time even. I thought you had to be done by then, but you jumped on my cock and rode me like your life depended on it. After I figured out that you had a crush on Parker, I always wondered if you were thinking about him and that's what did it."

"No," I said firmly, shaking my head. "I mean, yes, watching you dance with him got me worked up, and yes I find him attractive, but that night, it was all you. I was just so fucking horny I couldn't hold it in for anything."

He laughed then, long and low, and the honest happiness on his face was just too much. It was always his smile, his laugh, his light, the way he seemed to  _shine_ , that did me in. I was useless against his smile.

"Fuck me," I begged. "Now."

I grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward me over the center console. He resisted, ducking his chin so I couldn't kiss him and I wrapped my hand tighter in his shirt.

"I'm not fucking you in the Jeep again," he said, shaking his head. "I thought you wanted a striptease anyway. Hardly possible in a fucking car."

"Don't care. Baby, I need it now."

He hummed deep in his throat and I resisted the urge to try to climb on top of him. I was too big. Being six-foot-four really had its disadvantages.

"Emmett, I am not fucking you in the backseat again."

"Why?" I challenged, trying not to sound whiny or pout at him―that was Jasper's thing, I don't fucking pout or whine.

"Because you never have everything we need and I'm not spit-lubing again, last time you were fucking sore for a week. Just let go of my shirt and I'll break a couple minor laws and we can fuck like civilized humans in our bed with lube and everything."

I hated it when he was so logical. "Fine," I groaned, letting him go and leaning back into my own seat.

He put his hand on my neck and pushed his thumb right into the permanently sore spot just below my ear, knowingly rubbing just right and magically putting me half to sleep just with his thumb.

He didn't drive stupidly in order to get us home fast, but had there been a cop in sight, I'm sure he would have at least got a warning for breaking speed limits. He went just fast enough that I couldn't rag on him and just slow enough that it felt like we were crawling.

The driveway had never looked so good before. He parked my Jeep into my spot beside his car and I reminded myself that we weren't going to be doing it in the car, so shoving my tongue down his throat would be slightly detrimental. Instead I tried not to rush as I got out and walked up to the house.

Jake had the keys so I had to wait for him to unlock and open the door, and I couldn't help myself, he was right. Right fucking there.

I grabbed his hips and ground myself against him hard. He glanced back at me over his shoulder with a sly grin but said nothing as he pushed his ass back against me.

Then he stepped away and I groaned at the loss of friction. My dick  _hurt_.

He slowly shed his shoes and jacket, while I kicked and tossed mine. He could barely contain his laughter, I could hear the rumbling in his chest, just dying to burst free.

I ignored it and walked calmly around the corner into the hall. As soon as I was out of sight, I booked ass for the bedroom, running lightly and quietly on the balls of my feet and taking my clothes off in record time. I flipped through some CDs while I tossed the lube and a condom from the drawer out onto the bed. I picked something medium-paced, not wanting anything too heavy and fast but knowing that I also didn't have the patience for a slow, drawn out tease right now.

I grabbed the ottoman and centered it in the center of the room and sat down facing the door. "Hurry up!" I called down the hall.

Jake slowly slid around the corner and I flicked the music on.

He used the hallway like a runway and I groaned so loud, he could probably hear it over the music. It didn't matter that he was still so far away, his movement was pure seduction and my cock was hard and leaking precum, so goddamn in need of his attention it wasn't even funny.

He didn't have any socks on, thank god, but even as he made his way down the hall, fucking  _slowly_ , he didn't remove any other articles of clothing. He unbuttoned his shirt, but he was still wearing it when he finally reached me and I was all but panting over his raw sex appeal.

His skin was a mouthwatering golden brown, the color everyone that tanned so longed for but they always looked a little orange while Jake was pure, natural tan skin. The thin strip of dark hair that led from his bellybutton into his jeans was fucking sinful. His jeans were fucking sinful with the way they clung to his hips and thighs, and his ass―I knew that, even if I could see it right now.

"So fucking beautiful," I muttered as he peeled his button down off his strong chest, his broad shoulders, his bulging arms.

I was in for fucking torture if he kept up his pace. Thankfully, the song changed, and he had to speed up a bit. I almost told him there was no point in teasing anymore, my dick couldn't get any harder, but I knew I would never regret watching him strip for me. So I made myself be patient and wait for him to strip his jeans off first, then his fuckhot underwear.

"I don't think I can wait any longer, baby, are you ready?" he asked a bit impatiently as he leaned over me, hips still swaying with the music.

I nodded and he stood up, playfully pushing me onto my back with his foot. He didn't expect me to keep hold of his foot though and he stumbled slightly. As I urged his foot closer and closer to my mouth, his breath grew shorter and shorter.

He gasped when I licked his big toe and he shuddered as I took it into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it.

And that wasn't even his sweet spot.

I licked slowly around his foot, avoiding his toes for the most part, because I knew how much he liked when I licked them, especially between them. And when I finally got around to sucking each other, licking around and around, up and down, in between, he was practically shaking with need. As my tongue hit the 'sweet spot' between his third and forth toe, his entire leg shook and his body shuddered.

I swear he had a small orgasm every time I licked that spot. Even just touching it made him instantly hard. It was the weirdest fucking thing I have ever seen.

We were both so far past wanting it, I couldn't wait another second. When I released Jake's foot, he stumbled to the bed and grabbed the supplies. He moved to drop down onto his knees before me, but I stopped him, insisting he just put the fucking condom on and fuck me already.

He did as I asked, rolling the condom on then gliding lube over his cock and dripping some on my entrance before settling himself over me on the small ottoman.

It worked pretty good for fucking, honestly. It stood up to our weight and poundings, and even though it was nearly too small, there was just enough room for Jake to place his hands and knees.

"Fuck me," I pleaded, feeling him rubbing slowly over and around my rim.

His eyes locked on mine and he pressed forward, breaching me in the way only he could.

I swore like crazy and my eyes were already nearly rolled back into my head at the feeling of him stretching me.

I really hoped he was feeling worked up too, because there was no way I was going to last.

"Fuck me," I said again, this time more forcefully and his eyes opened and moved to mine.

He grunted and slammed down into me.

"Fuck!" I gasped, throwing my head back over the edge of the ottoman. "Yes. More. Fuck me. More," I encouraged.

Jake didn't disappoint. He was a big enough guy that he could really put force behind his thrusts and it felt so fucking good to be drilled hard, knowing I was going to come within just minutes.

His cock felt like it was made to be inside of me. He wasn't too big, but he definitely wasn't too small either, and he hit my prostate every fucking time.

"Emmett," he groaned, speeding up his already frantic pace. "Fuck, Em, Em, fuck," he repeated, head rolling back.

I let go of my hold on the side of the furniture beneath me and wrapped my hand tight around my cock, stroking fast, knowing he was just as close as I was.

Or he was just a little closer.

He gritted his teeth hard and slammed into me so hard the ottoman was scooting against the carpeted floor, and he came with an equally as forceful shudder.

His movements weren't rhythmic but erratic and instinctive as he released inside of me, but it was all the same. I couldn't feel his cock throbbing inside of me as he came without blowing my own load. His jerky movements somehow managed to angle just right and I saw stars as I let go of the night's tension.

Everything was a little vague from that point on. I remember being dragged into bed and telling Jake that I loved him and couldn't wait to celebrate another year with him.

I woke up disappointed, though not because Jacob wasn't beside me. He was there, sound asleep on his side of the bed.

The first thoughts to enter my head were of Jasper and Edward and how much of a fail last night had been, and I hadn't even fucking realized it.

I was just going to have to try again sometime.


	20. Smut-take #2

Edward and city traffic during road construction season do not mix.

You'd think he would have learned that by now.

"You stupid son of a bitch, get off the fucking road!" Edward yells, flipping the bird with one hand and blaring the horn with the other.

I sigh quietly and reach over to rest my hand on his knee. It does nothing to calm him down whatsoever but it makes me feel better nonetheless.

I learned pretty quickly that Edward's short temper was even more extreme on the road. He had road rage like I'd never seen before. He just wasn't happy unless he was breaking at least one traffic law. And he abso-fucking-lutely  _refused_  to let me drive anywhere.

If I even asked, he'd give me an incredulous look and snort a little, like I must be joking.

I shook my head and sighed again. It was just a lost cause. He had to be the one driving or he was bitching about it.

Of course, even when he was the one behind the wheel, he was still bitching, just not about the same thing. As bad as his road rage was, he generally was a pretty good driver, even if not necessarily safe. He claims he's never been in an accident. I don't even want to know how many tickets he's had over the years.

As he swerves into a tight space between two cars, I close my eyes and clutch at his knee, not even able to watch anymore. He's even worse than usual today. I think the long day on the road is to blame. But of course, I couldn't drive.

He chuckles and pats my hand. "Calm down, Jasper." As soon as those words are out of his mouth, he's slamming on the brakes. "Goddamn stupid motherfucking whore," he yells at no one in particular.

I keep my eyes closed and my head pressed firmly against the headrest. My internal monologue is slightly more hysterical than normal as I wonder if we're going to make it home alive this time.

It's only about another five minutes before we hit a traffic jam, and Edward beats the living shit out of the steering wheel as we come to a complete stop. I rub his knee soothingly but the constant stream of expletives coming out of his mouth doesn't even waver.

"Just think, if you'd have been driving, we never would have made it home," he mutters.

I shoot him a glare but he doesn't notice as he continues to stare straight ahead.

"You think Calla's okay?" he asks softly, taking his eyes off the cars ahead for the first time to look at me worriedly.

"Yes, baby, Calla is fine," I answer him.

"You should text Emmett just to make sure," he pleads.

I do just that, even though we had talked to Emmett before leaving to head back home―at which point Calla had been more than fine. His reply comes quickly and in picture form. Calla is curled up and sleeping against a far too naked Jacob, and I can't help cringing.

"What?" Edward demands, noticing my expression.

I wordlessly hand him my cell with the picture open and he winces too. "At least she's alright," he mutters, handing my phone back.

We sit quietly for a few minutes, the only sound coming from the turned-down radio and Edward's occasion impatient huff. I put my hand on his thigh after he turns up the radio, and start to rub as he rants on and on about there being nothing to listen to while we will be stuck in traffic for God knows how long.

All my thigh massaging does absolutely no good at all, even as I work higher and try to silently change the course of his frustration, he still just spouts on and on about 'these goddamn fucking idiots.'

When I spot the construction worker's fluorescent vest heading down the row of cars ahead of us, I rub a little bit harder in hopes of calming him down before all hell breaks loose.

He seems to finally pick up on what I'm trying to do and spreads his legs, groaning and relaxing just the slightest bit back into his seat. I can actually hear the radio again now that he's quit going on about shit no one really has a say in. I can feel his dick hardening under my hand, and I work to keep him distracted as long as I can. He hasn't noticed the worker making his way back toward us yet.

He notices when the guy knocks on the window though. I pull my hand away and roll the window down slightly.

"Evening, gentlemen. There's been a situation about a quarter mile up. We can't re-route you guys, and it'll be about two hours before the roadway is cleared. Just a heads-up. You can turn off your engine."

The guy doesn't even bother with more of an explanation than that. He has a sympathetic smile for us and that's it before he moves on down the line of vehicles.

Edward's silence actually disturbs me a little. "Well, at least I wasn't driving, right?" I ask jokingly.

"If you'd have been driving, we probably would have missed this little 'situation.'"

I should have seen that one coming. I close my eyes and rest my head back on the headrest as he kills the engine. The silence is a bit deafening until Edward groans quietly and grabs my wrist, putting my hand back on his dick.

"You started it," he grumbles when I cock an eyebrow at him.

"You want me to give you a handjob right here?" I ask, looking around outside of the car. It's nearly twilight, and the windows are tinted fairly dark as it is. It's not likely anyone would be able to see in here without us noticing.

"Well, we have to pass the time somehow, don't we? These fucking idiots are clearly incapable―"

I grip his half-hard dick through his jeans and he cuts off mid-sentence. I've had enough of the ranting for one day. A handjob sounds like a much better idea than two hours of endless tirade.

He reaches over to twine his fingers into my hair and squirms in his seat, moaning as I squeeze and rub him through his jeans. The harder he gets, the more firmly he wraps his fingers into my hair until he's literally tugging at the roots, and pulling me closer to him.

I switch hands as I lean over the center console, and he moans into my mouth, pressing his hips forward into my palm.

"Get in the backseat," he whispers roughly, breaking our kiss.

"What? Edward..." I trail off, not sure what my defense was going to be. We have plenty of time, we have nothing else to do, it's dark, and I'm as horny as he is.

I say nothing else and climb into the backseat. He smacks my ass when I'm halfway there and I'm tempted to kick him in retaliation and call it an accident. He doesn't give me the chance. He shoves me the rest of the way, and as soon as I'm on my ass he's in the backseat undoing my pants and ripping them off my legs.

I squeak and he chuckles darkly, leaning in and kissing me so forcefully my head hits the backdoor window.

"Can you believe these assholes? Two fucking hours," he mutters, gripping my underwear and peeling them down my legs.

I groan and roll my eyes while he grabs my legs and spreads them.

"Show those bastards. Best two fucking hours spent in a traffic jam."

I snort at his mindless raving, but my amusement dies as his lips connect with my balls. I groan and look down at him, watching as he licks and sucks at me 'til I'm hard. He grabs my previously discarded jeans off the floor and fishes out my wallet, tossing it onto my stomach so I can find our supplies while he keeps his mouth focused on my cock.

After pulling out a condom and a lube packet, I toss my wallet into the front seat and drop the items into his waiting hand. He grasps onto my legs and drags me closer to him; I hold my legs up as he tears open the lube and coats his fingers.

He scoots forward and I drop my legs onto his shoulders while his fingers find my entrance, knowingly circling and pressing before pushing in slowly one at a time. He leans in and kisses me as he works his first finger in and out, teasing me.

His second finger starts to stretch me and he twists and curls them, pressing his tongue further into my mouth when I start to moan. He knows just how to make me pant and beg for more, and beg I do when he scissors his fingers apart.

Pushing a third finger in, he curves them up and hits  _right there_.

"Edward," I groan, gasping while he watches me with a smirk on his face.

He pushes his fingers in as deep as they'll go one more time before pulling out. Shifting back slightly, he quickly unbuttons his pants and works them down his thighs. He tears the condom open and rolls it down his hard cock. With his lubed hand, he starts to stroke my cock while he settles between my legs, holding one up while I wrap the other around his waist.

I take a deep breath and relax as he starts to push in. We both groan when I clench down around him and his hand tightens around my cock, gripping and stroking until I loosen up again. He shifts closer to me and pushes in slowly, giving me a chance to adjust. He leans down to kiss me softly, slowly, as he slides in deeper and deeper.

The air inside the car is hot and thick, and we're both panting as he starts to fuck me. There isn't much light left and the sound of the city right outside is familiar, even if it feels so much closer than it normally would.

The fact that we are so close to other people, that we could get caught at any minute, is exhilarating. Edward's movements are quick and calculated, the high of the adrenaline rush bringing the imminent end closer, faster.

With a twist of Edward's wrist, I lose it, and he fucks me straight through my orgasm, drawing it out and bringing on his own.

My hot skin feels uncomfortable against the leather seats, and the air reeks of sex as we come down from our mutual release. Edward doesn't help matters by hunching forward and crushing me at an awkward angle.

"Best traffic jam ever," he mumbles against my neck.

I groan and shift painfully. "Agreed, now get up."

With a sigh, he pulls himself away and shifts back into his pants. While his back is turned I quickly peel off my soiled shirt and use it to clean the cum off of the leather seat and rear window. He thankfully hadn't noticed that; he's so touchy about the car still. I don't know what he expects, sex―especially with me―tends to be a bit messy.

Edward spends the rest of the hour with his eyes closed, and our ride home is surprisingly peaceful. I think I managed to find the perfect remedy for Edward's road rage.


End file.
